


Insane Asylum Escapees - years 1-7

by Steve2



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-10-22 21:17:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 51
Words: 60,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10705299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steve2/pseuds/Steve2
Summary: This is a series of one-shots that involve Harry believing that everyone in the ‘magical’ world is insane. Starts with Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall getting Harry, instead of Hagrid, and goes from there. Involves lots of sarcasm from Harry. Books 1-7And... Mr. Black, the Professor, and Henchgirl make a cameo.





	1. Chapter 0: Introduction

Insane Asylum Escapees

Originally By: RuneWitchSakura, now by Steve2

This is a series of oneshots that involve Harry believing that everyone in the ‘magical’ world is insane. Starts with Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall getting Harry, instead of Hagrid, and goes from there. Involves much sarcasm from Harry. Books 1-7

Introduction:

A few years ago, RuneWitchSakura created a series of one-shots around the Harry Potter universe. She wrote the following in Chapter 14 of her story (reprinted here at the bottom of this chapter). I took a look at these chapters and it tickled my funny bone enough to want to finish this story. So I have her chapters incorporated into this larger story. I am doing all books 1-7. It is still a bunch of one-shots, but will hopefully make a little more sense as I am putting them in order and adding more to Rune’s chapters as well as creating my own. After going through her updates, it appears that these initial chapters only went into Book 5.

As of this initial posting, I have created all chapters for Books 1-7 with multiple chapters for each book (sometimes quite a few chapters, depending on what I find funny). Rune originally wrote 15 chapters and as of this writing, I have 35 chapters created so far. I would encourage any readers who want to review the original story of Rune’s to check her site out and read these. I hope you like what I write and enjoy the changes and updates. Some of Rune’s chapters had minor tweaks; others had a lot of additional content added. I can certainly say some of what I have in here has not been done before. I hope. I mean, there are what, nearly a million HP stories? I’ve only read about 700 of them. I haven’t read anything like this before.

Anyhoo, please feel free to read and if you would like to do an omake, or even have an idea you want to pass along, please put it in a review or send a personal message to me. I look forward to reading them and putting them in. I will try to maintain a fairly consistent upload of these chapters for the foreseeable future.

Steve2

{Introduction}

From Rune – original Chapter 14: (Probably Not The) Last Update

Dear Readers,

It is with a heavy heart that I finally admit I just no longer have the time to write fanfiction. My last ditch attempt to finish them by posting them to my livejournal, with my last upload being almost a year ago, unfortunately did not work. I’m sorry to those of you who followed me there that I was unable to finish them.

I am placing all my uncompleted stories up for adoption. If you choose to adopt a story, please pm me (on ) so that I may let those interested know by posting your penname in the story in question.

I will very shortly be privatizing the fanfiction posts on my livejournal (if I haven’t already), and hosting them solely on . The few fanfictions that were introduced to my livejournal but not on , will be posted on fanfiction shortly after. I will also be uploading any remaining written portions and notes for each chapter to fanfiction. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.

Thank you for your time,

RuneWitchSakura/MChilz

While other stories are being put up for adoption and marked complete, Insane Asylum Escapees is being left open, as I may eventually add more too it. Don’t let that keep you from adopting it anyway. There is a new chapter about to be uploaded.

Feel free to adopt this story. If you do, please remember to PM me so I may add your penname below.

Adopted by:

Lucilla (userid = 579283)

{Introduction}

Steve2 continuation:

I’ve since adopted it. Please read and review as those comments make me feel good and polish my chapters faster.


	2. Chapter 1: What’s That Address Again?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 1

Year 1  
Chapter 1: What’s That Address Again?

Original Chapter 1 by Rune, updates by Steve2

Rune: This isn’t a story; it’s more a compilation of one-shots that involve Harry and his belief that all ‘magical’ people are insane asylum escapees (hence the title). Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

1988: during the summer of Harry’s 8th birthday.

“We really should consider what that professor said,” Petunia implored of her husband.

“I think a good thumping will do just as much, and it will make me feel better,” her large husband replied.

“But think, Vernon, what if he’s right? Don’t you want to squash that… freakishness… out of him?”

“Of course I do, Pet. It’s unnatural. That’s why I think a good thumping…”

“But, dear, you’ve spent years thumping him and nothing has come of it. The… freakishness… is still happening. Maybe this way will be better.”

“…but there will still be freakishness…”

She smiled lightly at her husband. “Yes, there will be. But we can explain it to him a little better than just thumping him.”

“Let’s do it,” Vernon agreed with the hope that maybe something good would come of this.

{-1-}

The years passed and soon enough…

Albus Dumbledore ignored Snape’s grumbling and McGonagall’s long-suffering sighs as he rang the doorbell.

“Boy! Get the door!” they heard from inside.

“Yes, Uncle Vernon,” a voice followed after. Moments later came the sounds of footsteps and the lock unlocking. The door was opened by a short, black-haired boy who didn’t look older than eight with emerald green eyes.

“Can I help you?” the boy asked.

“Mr. Potter?” Dumbledore asked, smiling, overlooking the fact that Harry was obviously malnourished (which in turn caused both Snape and McGonagall to cast the Snape Glare of Death™ upon him).

“Yes? Who is asking?”

“I am Professor Dumbledore, and these are Professors McGonagall and Snape. We are here from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You do believe in magic, of course?” The last part was more a statement than a question.

Harry stepped onto the porch. “Oh, I believe alright,” Harry started. “I believe you,” (pointing at Dumbledore) “and you,” (pointing at McGonagall) “are both obviously senile and have escaped the insane asylum and have obviously dragged your poor minder here,” (he gestured at Snape) “along with this insanity.”

Harry turned to look at Snape with an ‘I feel sorry that you have to care for loons’ look on his face, “Would you like me to give you the directions back to the asylum, so you can put the patients back in their beds?”

It took all of Snape’s self-control not to crack a smile at the emerald eyed boy, or even worse… laugh; especially at the looks on Dumbledore’s and McGonagall’s faces. McGonagall looked affronted, as no one in their right mind had ever called her senile (except Sirius Black, but he got two months of detention with Filch and therefore never spoke the word ‘senile’ again, especially in her presence). Dumbledore blinked several times in confusion.

“I beg your pardon?” Albus Dumbledore asked.

Harry regarded him for a moment. Finally he surmised he needed to dumb his answer down for the sake of the poor demented man with the long white beard.

“You’re asking forgiveness for being insane… well, that’s the first time that’s happened to me… of course, this is the first time I’ve seen two senile old people dragging their minder along with them. Oh right,” he turned back inside. “Uncle Vernon? What was the address to the insane asylum? There’s a man out here with two senile escapees who are talking about witchcraft, and wizardry, and stuff like that.”

“WHAT? I’LL NOT HAVE THAT FREAKISHNESS IN MY HOUSE!”

“They’re not in the house; they’re on the doorstep, and their minder would really like that address.”

Snape snorted. Maybe this Potter wouldn’t be so bad to keep around.

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Rune/Steve2


	3. Chapter 2: Super Duper Fertilizer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 1

Year 1

Chapter 2: Super Duper Fertilizer

Original chapter 8 by Rune, updates by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

Harry stared.

Ollivander stared back. Then he gave a big grin.

“I was wondering when I’d be seeing you in here, Mr. Potter,” he said.

Harry raised an eyebrow at the creepy insane guy.

“It seems like it was just yesterday when I sold your parents their first wands.”

“Wands?” Harry muttered.

“Yes, wands,” came the terse reply.

Harry turned to Snape. “More and more people are playing along with this whole ‘asylum as a school’ thing. And I thought Merlin used a staff.”

“I think you’re a little too young for a staff,” Ollivander supplied good naturedly.

“And I think you’re a little too old to still be breathing,” Harry replied in kind.

McGonagall and Dumbledore made strange whining noises and Snape snorted. Ollivander stared at Harry.

“Oh, sorry,” Harry said, grinning. “I thought we were having a ‘state the first thing on your mind’ contest. I think I won.”

Ollivander continued staring at him, then he looked up at Dumbledore, and his eyebrows rose. He shook his head and went through some boxes.

“Here, try this one,” he said, handing a wand to Harry. “Eleven inches, oak, unicorn tail hair.”

“Sure it is…” Harry took the wand, and looked at it for few seconds. He then poked the wand box with it.

FWOOSH!

The box erupted into flames.

“Definitely not,” Ollivander said, taking it back and handing him another one. “Twelve and a half inches, mahogany, dragon heartstring.”

“Sure it is…” Harry started again. Harry took the wand, and, looking rather hopeful, poked Dumbledore with it. Nothing happened for a few seconds, and then a flower started growing on Dumbledore’s head, pushing his hat off in the process.

“No, not that one either,” Ollivander said, taking it back and handing him yet another wand. “Try this one. Eleven inches, holly, phoenix feather.”

Harry took the wand. It felt warm, and Harry was pretty sure he could feel a breeze – there must be a fan somewhere, or an open window.

“That’s the one!” Ollivander said, ringing them up. “Have a nice day!” The group left the wand shop to continue down the road. “If that’s our savior, we’re all doomed.”

Back with the group of four, McGonagall was surprised to find out that Harry still didn’t believe in magic.

“And how do you explain the box catching fire?” she asked.

“Ollivander probably had a hidden lighter that we couldn’t see,” Harry answered.

“And the flower?”

“Super Duper Fertilizer. I use it all the time on my Aunt’s garden. The flowers pop right up,” Harry said, before turning to Dumbledore. “What possesses you to carry fertilizer and flower seeds around in your hat? That just proves you’re insane.”

Dumbledore blinked in confusion, before popping a lemon drop in his mouth.

This boy was just too much.

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Rune/Steve2


	4. Chapter 3: It Makes the Insane Ones Feel Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 1

Original Chapter 3 by Rune, updates by Steve2

 

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

 

**{-3-}**

 

The Sorting was just plain weird. What with the animatronic hat they put on his head and the microphone they'd hidden in there to pick up his comments.

 

"You'd do well in Slytherin," the Hat said, "But you'd also do well in Gryffindor. Hmm…how about, I let you choose?"

 

"Seriously? Dude… Slytherin! I want to be known as sane!"

 

"Very well. Have fun, Mr. Potter, in SLYTHERIN!" Harry took the Hat off his head as Dumbledore choked on another one of his lemon drops. Snape raised his hand and McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick all grumbled as they put ten galleons each in his hand.

 

Harry headed to the table, sat near a few stunned students and looked around for the food. When were the waiters going to come in… he wondered. Oh well, he opened a book he'd gotten as a farewell gift from Aunt Petunia – the Fall TV Lineup for 1991, giving a rundown on all the shows on the telly.

 

Harry never noticed the food arriving, but helped himself anyway.

 

**{-3-}**

 

Later, when it came time for the Hogwarts School Song, Harry could see the insane ones singing along with whatever came to mind (like he suspected they would), and the Slytherin table remaining fairly quiet (like he suspected they would).

 

When the singing had started, Harry knew he had to do something about it. So he pulled out his Walkman, slipped on his headphones and turned on the cassette recordings of AC/DC, something he knew of that was real music. Only… drat the luck! His batteries had died. And he had just changed them before getting on that wacky train ride. He'd have to send a letter home for new batteries or find the school store wherever it is to see if they carry batteries in this loony bin. He wasn't sure that was going to happen.

 

Harry nodded knowingly as some older red-headed twins finished singing a funeral march. Figures. He knew they were crazy indeed, especially after some at his table commented on it, reinforcing his knowledge that he got to the right area in school.

 

**{-3-}**

 

After the feast, in the Slytherin common room, there was much strutting about by quite a few members of the house. Harry ignored them, meaning he ignored almost everyone.

 

Shortly after Snape left (after saying something about House Loyalty and all that rot – Harry really wasn't paying attention), Draco got up into Harry's face.

 

"Potter…" he started and before he could continue, Harry interrupted him.

 

"Are you…stressed, or is that just your natural hair color? I mean, white? Really? My aunt cries out every time she finds a white hair on her head. Do you do the same? Hmmm, maybe not since you would be crying a lot I guess."

 

Draco's eye twitched and he pulled out his wand. "I'll kill you!"

 

"And _why_ do you have a stick in your hand? Oh please, don't tell me that you actually believe that senile old coot's whole 'Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry' crap, do you? You do realize we're supposed to be the sane ones, right?"

 

"…" Draco had nothing to say at that, trying to figure out what was going on.

 

Blaise snickered; the only one brave enough to do so.

 

Harry continued on, taking Draco's silence for acceptance, something he did. A lot. "I mean, isn't all that for little kids… or you know… the insane people that were sorted in the other three 'houses?'" Harry's fingers air-quoted the 'houses'.

 

"…" Draco was still trying to figure out what was going on.

 

Blaise, having heard rumors on the train, already knew exactly what Harry believed Hogwarts to be.

 

"Hello?" Harry waved his hand in front of Draco's face, "Hello? Oh, great… he's dead." Harry poked Draco on the forehead and the blonde fell over (it was the Power Poke of Doom™).

 

"Huh?" Draco asked, wondering how he got on the floor.

 

"He's alive," Harry said, looking like he was conflicted about being happy or sad about that; he settled for happy, "Thank God! I don't want to go to juvie just because of some insane people here."

 

"What's juvie?" one of the other first years whispered to an older student.

 

"No idea," the student whispered back.

 

**{-3-}**

 

Later that night, the boys had gotten ready for bed in the First Year Boys Dorm Room. Harry had no idea why everyone spoke in capitals, but figured it was just another reason why they were in this insane asylum.

 

"Nice to be in the sane house, isn't it?" Blaise said to Harry, as he levitated his books out of his trunk.

 

"If you're sane… then why…" Harry was cut off before he could finish asking about Blaise's use of magic.

 

"It makes the insane ones feel better," Blaise said.

 

"Ah… I suppose that that's a good enough reason to play along," Harry said, smiling.

 

**{-3-}**

 

The campers eventually had enough of the day and went to bed. Even Harry. And the next day, in the Transfiguration Classroom, he met one of the senile patients.

 

"Finally decide to give up the 'insane asylum' ruse, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall said.

 

"No," Harry replied, as he transfigured his match to a needle and back repeatedly.

 

"Then why -" McGonagall was cut off, just like Harry last night.

 

"It makes the insane ones feel better," Harry repeated Blaise's words from the night before.

 

McGonagall's eye twitched.

 

Both Harry and Blaise grinned.

 

**{-3-}**

 

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

 

Rune/Steve2


	5. Chapter 4: Moving Through the Year – part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 1

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-4-}

With a sigh, Minerva McGonagall looked up from her desk where she was grading essays from the class and noticed all but one of her students was practicing their assignment. That one student, she knew it was him before she even raised her head and saw his hand up in the air, was Harry Potter. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Is it true you lived in Scotland before coming to work here at this drafty castle?"

Not seeing what this had to do with the assignment, but knowing she wouldn't be getting any work done until his insatiable curiosity was appeased, she replied, "Yes, Mr. Potter. I grew up in the Highlands."

"I knew it. I could tell by your accent. I don't suppose you had a relative by the name of Conner or Duncan?"

"Well, I do have a distant cousin by the name of Duncan…" she started, thinking, who doesn't have a Duncan in their clan.

"If that's the case, where's your sword?" Harry smiled.

"My sword, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, your sword. You know, for cutting off other immortal's heads. After all there can be only one, right?"

"I'm afraid I don't…"

"So how many heads have you taken?"

"Professor McGonagall cuts off heads?" Ron Weasley said with wide eyes. "Cor! I'll get this assignment done, professor, never you worry!"

Minerva McGonagall didn't know whether to award Harry points for motivating his fellow classmates into working harder, or cry now that she was likely to be gossiped as a homicidal murderer by dinnertime.

Honestly, where does that boy get these ideas anyway?!

{-4-}

"Harry!" shouted a voice from behind the young Potter.

He turned and noticed two twin red-heads coming at him in a sprint. They were from another house, so he had to be on guard. There was no telling what kind of insaneness they would throw his way.

"Let me guess, you're Fred and George Weasley, right?" Harry arched an eyebrow. "I've been warned about you from the others in my house."

"Got us pegged, Fred."

"I thought you were Fred," his twin returned.

"Maybe we both are," went the response.

"You two confirm my belief that I'm in an insane asylum, you know," Harry pointed out.

"Then our job is done!" one of the Fred's grinned.

Harry grinned back. "Nah, you're not crazy. You're too sane to be crazy. Bet you're keeping an eye on the other crazy ones."

"Oh, George, how can he think of such vile thoughts about us?" To Harry: "Of course we are, young snake. They are such a dour crowd, we feel it our calling to make them feel happy as much as possible."

"Plus, it makes the insane ones feel better," George winked at Harry.

"Too true, brother of mine," replied his brother, putting his hand over his heart.

Harry replied, "I have to tell you, I am so happy to know there are other sane ones in school. This place is a madhouse."

"So, Harry, how would you like to help a couple other wayward students in this castle of insanity help to make things a little more… frivolous?" George began.

"You're bending my ear, so let's hear your sales pitch," Harry smiled at the start of negotiations.

{-4-}

"You don't exist! Quit following me!" Harry ordered, walking faster down the mostly empty corridor.

"But I'm talking to you," replied the Fat Friar.

"You're just a hologram! I keep telling you that!"

"I am not! I am a ghost! Boooooooo-whoooooo! See? I haunt!"

Harry stopped and started looking around the cracks and crevices of the corridor.

"What are you doing now? Shouldn't you be on your way to class?"

"I'm looking for the holo-emitters or whatever they are using for your hologram."

The Fat Friar shot his hands up in frustration, and said, "You talk to him. He's in your house!" He then ghosted away through a wall.

The Bloody Baron looked at his your charge. He then said, "We're ghosts, you bloody pillock!"

"Yeah, right. If that were the case, you'd think I would have found the Ghostbusters in my phone book before I left to come to this crazy place."

"The what?" said the ghostly voice.

"Ghostbusters, you numbskull! Or barring that, you'd think that there'd be at least the British equivalent. What do you think? Should I start up my own firm? I can call it… Hellsing, or something like that."

{-4-}

Harry wasn't sure what to expect with Broom flying lessons, but he went in with an open mind.

"They have anti-gravity here? Cool! Or is that magnetic repulsion? Either way, that is so cool! And voice activated computer systems! Neat-o! So you must be saying it's magic to keep up appearances, eh, Professor Booze?"

"That's Professor Hooch."

"But that's what I said. Anyway, having to talk about this supposed magic all the time must be maddening. Good thing you have some anti-gravity toys to play with. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge, and all that," Harry winked at the spiked-hair witch.

Professor Hooch felt the tell-tale start of a nervous tic above her left eye.

Harry, of course, proceeded to fall in love with the anti-gravity "broomstick" and zoomed around the pitch during his first lesson, in and out of the goal posts, around the moving tree (he wasn't sure what they'd spliced with that tree bud to get it to do that), and through Professor Dumbledore's window where he crashed into a shelf full of tinker-toys.

"Sorry about that," Harry grinned and took off again, back through the open window.

Fawkes looked at the carnage. Then back at her human with the white beard. He looked back at his Phoenix and said, "Yes, dear, I'll clean it up."

{-4-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	6. Chapter 5: Moving Through the Year – part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 1

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-5-}

Harry sat in Hagrid's hut for tea one day.

"So if I understand this right, you got booted out of school and have been living here ever since, right?" Harry inquired.

"Err… right," Hagrid confirmed.

"I bet it's because you have a learning disability, right?"

"Err… wha?"

"I know what you mean. I have one too. I have A.D.H.L.A.S."

"Whas' that?" Hagrid said.

"Attention Defi-Hey Look A Squirrel!" Harry started.

Hagrid beamed. "Hey! I have that too!"

{-5-}

Harry left Hagrid's house a short while later and returned to the Slytherin common room. There he was motioned over to talk about his experience with some additional Slytherins: Daphne, Tracy, Millicent, and Blaise.

"So what did you think of the groundskeeper, Potter?" Millicent inquired.

Harry shrugged his shoulders as he sat down, facing them. "Oh, he's okay."

Blaise looked at his classmates. Then, to Harry: "Don't you think he's a little odd? A little off?"

"Oh, absolutely. It's probably the scientist's fault," Harry agreed.

"Who?" Daphne asked.

"You know, the scientist responsible, whoever that is."

"What are you talking about?" Daphne was confused. She wasn't the only one.

"Oh, I'm sure Hagrid doesn't just know the scientist, but it's obvious that he's probably one of the experiments! Why, just shave him and I bet you'll find two-inch screws on either side of his neck!"

{-5-}

Harry had found an unused classroom during his self-guided tour of the castle during the Holiday break. In there was a large object with a tarp over it. Curiosity getting the better of him, he removed the tarp and looked at what someone had wanted to stash: a mirror.

Harry looked in the mirror, then sat down and smiled.

He was still there an hour later when "discovered" by none other than Albus Dumbledore. "Harry, this is a magical mirror."

"Yeah, right. Shhhh, you're interrupting."

Albus was shocked at what he felt was a blatant blow-off by the young Potter. "No, really, it's a magical mirror. People have gone mad staring at it for too long."

"Really? How long did you stare at it then?" Harry wondered aloud.

Albus ignored the jab and replied, "This mirror shows you your heart's desire. I myself see me in some new socks when I look upon it. What do you see, Harry?"

"I see myself surrounded by insane people. Namely you," Harry said. "Now, shhhh, it's back on."

"What's back on?" Dumbledore inquired of his student.

"The show: they went to commercial for a few minutes. Now it's back on. Star Trek; you know, Captain Picard, Number One, Mr. Data. I haven't seen this show yet – it's a meeting of Picard and a young Kirk; not sure how they got that done, but it's all good. Only, could you get maintenance up here to fix the audio on this TV? I can't get anything from this thing."

{-5-}

Around Christmas morning, Harry woke up to find a present at the foot of his bed. Not thinking of who would deliver presents at night or on a holiday, he rushed to see who it was from.

It was from his Aunt and Uncle.

Harry opened the envelope. It was a TV Guide for the upcoming spring season. Whoo-hoo!

{-5-}

It was time. He knew it. He couldn't put it off any longer. Albus was demanding answers. He had already done it with all the other students. Only Potter was left.

It was time to do his progress review.

"Potter! Get in here!" he bellowed to the young student waiting outside his office.

As Potter came into the office, he said, "I take it you know why you are here?" At the affirmative nod, he clarified anyway, "We need to discuss how you are progressing in your classes so far."

Harry sat and looked at his head of house. Then he started.

"How am I doing in my classes? You have to be kidding me, right? I'll concede that your chemistry class is good, even if you need some serious equipment upgrades; at least you're trying to teach. It's the only real class we have, in fact.

"Why, the whole 'charms, and transfiguration, and defense against the dark arts'… Dear Lord, is it any wonder they're all insane? There are limits on how far one can go to accommodate the inmates after all. The only other real lessons are herbology, which is glorified gardening with modified plants, the "care of 'magical' creatures" which is really "care of genetic experiments," astrology which is astronomy with added "magic" less the annoying horoscope, and arithmancy which is "magical" math, or as I like to think of it as: math without a calculator.

"Tell me how am I going to graduate from this asylum? No, wait! Don't answer that. Of course I'm going to graduate since the so-called headmaster is insane. He'll make sure I graduate. The only real question I have then is what kind of career do I want to go into? This place sure as hell isn't going to make it so I can get into Uni anytime soon."

"Is going to a Uni what you want to do?" Professor Snape prompted, trying to find some safe ground with this high-strung young Potter.

Harry thought for a moment. "No, not really. I guess not. I probably would have been in the same situation if I went to Stonewall, except without all the magic nonsense. Lousy education system."

"Yes, it is a sad state of affairs with the local education system," Professor Snape started.

"Is that why you went into Chemistry, Professor?"

"Excuse me?" Snape's eyes shot up.

"Figuring you had to do something about the local crazies, I bet you went into Chemistry so you could learn to study the inmates and their "potions" so you could devise ways to help medicate all the crazies and keep them off the streets. Right?"

"Sure," Snape agreed. "Why not?"

"Then that's what I'm going to do: study chemistry and find out ways to medicate these crazies."

"You know you could also learn charms and other spells to help deal with crazies…" Snape volunteered.

"That is just enabling them more, professor. No, I think Chemistry is where I'm going to start studying more. Maybe see if I can get some Bunsen burners installed at home or something. And if that doesn't work out, there is always electroshock therapy."

Professor Snape didn't have a response for that. At all.

{-5-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	7. Chapter 6: Genetic Experiment & Multi Personalities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 1

Original Chapter 13 by Rune, updates by Steve2

Rune: For those of you who don't know, Lucky is an animatronic dinosaur made by the Disney Imagineers.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-6-}

Harry Potter was Not Happy. With capitals emphasizing how Not Happy he was. Had there been anyone around him (save the idiot in front of him who hadn't stopped talking), they would have been able to hear the capital letters in that sentence without Harry even saying it out loud.

Why was he Not Happy? Simple.

What would have been a perfectly wonderful night, what SHOULD have been a perfectly wonderful night staying in the common room and reading up on the latest updates of the BBC was ruined the moment Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley dragged him down a trap door. Well, actually, they pushed him down the trap door, saying: "Save the Stone!" (they didn't even answer his question of "What stone?"), and left – LEFT! – him alone.

This wouldn't have been so bad – after all, there was a 'Fluffy' guarding the trap door – whatever 'Fluffy' was. Harry was pretty sure it was a birth defect, or maybe a genetic experiment gone wrong. Yeah, that's it, a genetic experiment with growth hormones (How else could there be a three-headed dog bigger than the Dursley's house?). He was at that point in time, away from 'Fluffy', when he wondered if he could get a picture and sell it to the National Enquirer or the Globe. Maybe something to put up with the Page2 girl.

But as the saying goes, out of the frying pan, and into the fire.

He traded an animal-genetic-experiment-gone-wrong for a plant-genetic-experiment-gone-wrong. Whatever the hell he had landed on it had vines (or at least he thought it was vines – it didn't feel like the Giant Squid – also an animal-genetic-experiment-gone-wrong's tentacles) and it had tried to eat him. What in the hell was wrong with it that it wanted to eat him? He was all bones and skinnier than a toothpick.

He poked it with that fake "wand" he'd gotten so long ago and hoped the lighter in it still worked. He hadn't found the trigger on it, but there was always hope it would start a fire like it had with Ollivander. It did and the plant-gone-wrong left him alone.

Having decided that the only way to get out would be to go forward, he went on.

{-6-}

"Great, mini-robots," Harry said, catching sight of the flying keys. "And broomsticks? Am I supposed to smack the mini-robots? Hmmm, they're flying far too high for that." Harry tried the door handle. "Locked. Let's see, where is that… aha!"

Harry pulled out a set of lock picks (something he'd picked up a long time ago to deal with Big D and his gang), and set about getting the door unlocked. A small 'click' sounded and he opened the door with ease.

{-6-}

The next room had a giant chess set. As he tried to cross the board the pawns came alive and didn't let him pass.

"Animatronics from hell? Disney endorses this place? I wonder if Lucky will come for a visit." Harry backed up, hopped off the chessboard, and walked around it, still mumbling about Lucky. As is, the animatronic chess set was hitting one another. Best that he wasn't around when the maintenance staff came in to find out what happened. They might blame him or something.

{-6-}

"Ew?" Harry said, holding his nose through the next room. What appeared to be a large troll (magic wasn't real so it must have been a movie prop, perhaps from Lord of the Rings?) was in the room. It was apparently out like a light. Its stench however was not.

"What did they use…" he muttered, "perfume du skunk on this thing? Ugh." Harry quickly exited to the next room, stopping only to grab the prop's club (just in case it was a robot and woke back up).

{-6-}

As soon as Harry was through the next door, multi-colored flames spread in the doorways, causing Harry to jump.

"Weird colors. Wonder if it's a hologram?" Harry pondered out loud, before taking off his robes and throwing them in the fire. They caught fire and so disproved his theory.

"Right, then. Must be chemicals changing the color." Which probably meant that the chemicals were being spread. Harry wasn't sure if the chemicals changing the color of the fire were toxic to him or not. He walked towards the table, completely ignoring the piece of paper, and found the vials. With all the liquid inside the vials being clear, Harry came to one conclusion:

"Water!"

He took out his canteen (why he had started carrying it around was due to the lousy castle not having drinking fountains at all), which was much bigger than the small bottles on the table, and mixed all the potions together. Being of a rather cool temperature, the potions only reactions to each other were to bubble slightly. Adding heat to the mixture would likely cause an explosion. Harry didn't know this, and poured the potions onto the fire.

The sizzling and cracking sounds coming from the fire didn't sound very good, so Harry went back to the table, turned it on its side, and hid behind it. Just in time too, as the fire, the doorway it was in, and most of the wall was taken out in a loud BOOM!

"Oops," Harry said, surveying the destruction he caused. "I guess it wasn't water. Must have been nitroglycerin or something," he surmised. He then started cursing as he moved several pieces of debris out of his way. He was not a happy camper as he got into the last room.

{-6-}

Unknown to Harry, the explosion was loud enough to attract the attention of several Professors, who hurried to the third floor corridor.

{-6-}

Quirrell had been knocked out by the explosion, though the face on the back of his head (his turban had been blown off) was not.

"I shall kill you!" the face said. It must have been some type of experimental drug not working correctly – a multiple personality disorder drug maybe? The second personality appeared to function independently from Quirrell.

"I believe that," Harry said, sarcastically, even if the face was rather convincing.

The Professors who heard the explosion finally showed up. Harry turned to Professor Snape before any of them could speak. "Excuse me, Professor. Is this another one of your patients? I wasn't aware that they were allowed to teach, although one is in charge of the Asylum so I suppose it's possible."

"Not an asylum!" McGonagall said, before noticing the face on the back of Quirrell's head. "What is that? No, what are you doing, Potter? Don't touch it!"

Harry, who had just poked the extra face in the vicinity of its forehead, looked up, missing the pained look Voldemort gave before he screamed and was forced out of Quirrell's body. Quirrell's body then melted, which Harry did notice, and then he gave a horrified wail.

"What kind of chemicals did you use on that fire? Oh god, I inhaled them too didn't I? Oh god, I'm gonna die! I don't want to die!" Before Harry could get any more hysteric then he already was Snape stunned him from behind. Typical.

{-6-}

He woke up in the hospital wing where Snape explained that whatever chemicals he had inhaled, Pomfrey had cleared them away. (In actuality she didn't even find any chemicals.) "Yeah, then what about the possibility of growing an extra face out of the back of my head like that other guy? Is that going to happen to me?"

Snape's eye twitched ever so slightly. "No."

"You sure? Because even if I want to be a Janus, I don't want to look like him. He was too creepy."

Snape was saved having to respond again with another negative of some sort when Dumbledore came in to question him.

They chatted for a few minutes, or more like Dumbledore chatted with Harry's only reply was: "Stone? What stone? Granger and Weasley said something about a stone. Is that the stone you're looking for? Tell you what – I'll keep an eye out for it next time I'm in a potentially lethal situation with toxic chemicals, insane psychotics, and genetic experiments gone wrong. So that will be as soon as I'm out of here, right?"

Dumbledore didn't know how to respond to that and only smiled, thinking to downplay Harry's words.

**END OF YEAR 1**

{-6-}

Rune: And the Power Poke of Doom™ makes its appearance. Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Rune/Steve2


	8. Chapter 7: Malfoy's Minions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 2

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-7-}

It was early in the morning at Hogwarts when Harry stumbled into the Great Hall and sat down for breakfast. "Bloody castle," Harry groused. "You'd think this place could put up some decent lighting or at least some maps of the place," he commented to himself, wondering where he could file a complaint of the building not being up to code.

"So you made it to breakfast today, eh Potter?" drawled a familiar voice.

The noise level dropped in the Great Hall as a lot of the breakfast participants wanted to see something exciting.

Harry looked up and sure enough, there stood Malfoy and his goons. "Yes, Draco, I'm here. Satisfied?"

Draco smirked as he jabbed, "I don't know how you can get lost coming here. I mean you came here all of last year for all your meals."

"I guess some of us are either just trying to suppress their memories of this place, or we don't have minions like yours to tell us which way to go in this insane asylum," Harry replied honestly. "Speaking of which, I think it is high time I have some minions of my own. Hey Fred! George! You want to be my minions?"

"And by minion," Fred started.

"You mean what exactly?" George finished.

"You know, the regular minion stuff. You fetch me from my dorm and bring me to dinner, get my slippers for me on cold nights, and get to beat up those patients I feel need a good beating."

"Sounds good, mate! I'm in!"

"Me too!" his brother replied. "Ooofff! Ginny, what… oh, right. Can my sister be a minion as well?"

"Sure," Harry agreed. "Why not? The more the merrier."

"Hey, Harry," Roger Davies asked from another table. "Can I be a rising dark lord instead of your minion?"

"Why in the heck would you want to be a dark lord? Don't you realize how stupid that sounds?" Harry shot back.

"Uh… then what do you suggest?" Roger stammered.

"You can be a rising dark scientist. Lord knows there are enough of them around here, somewhere."

"Okay," Roger gave him the thumbs up to that idea.

"Hey, Harry, if Ginny gets to be your minion, can I be one too?" a Gryffindor girl asked.

"Sure. Who are you again?"

"Romilda Vane, cute minion #1," she responded immediately.

"Hey, hey, hey," Ginny cut in. "I'm cute minion #1. I was first."

"Well, technically, George and I were #1, but we don't want to be known as cute minions 1 and one-half," Fred grinned.

"Hey, Harry," another girl (a brunette) from Hufflepuff table chimed in, "can I be sexy minion #1?"

"Sure?" Harry agreed.

"Thanks, Harry, and my friend Sue here wants to be sexy minion #2. That okay?"

"Sure. Hey Fred, we're going to need t-shirts for everyone."

"Oh no you don't, Potter!" Malfoy snapped. "Bad enough you try to take my minion trademark from me, but now you want to give them all t-shirts?"

"Why're you upset, Draco? Just get more minions like me," Harry suggested.

"Oh, right. Theodore, Blaise, you seven guys from the Quidditch team – you can all be my minions," Draco snapped his fingers.

Blaise summed up all the startled expressions and said after a nod from all the males present, "Uh, no. We don't minion that way, cappice?"

{-7-}

"…but Uncle Sev," Draco started.

"No, for the last time, no! Potter may be insufferable, but his idea is sound. You shouldn't be so insistent to add only guys to his minions list. Why not include some girls. Why, Samantha Zybrist is a fine specimen that you would be proud to make into one of your minions. Next time you see her, go talk to her."

{-7-}

And so it came to be that Draco Malfoy, scion of the House of Malfoy (for all that meant), approached the 3rd year Slytherin Samantha Zybrist to announce that she could do no better than to join him as his minion.

And so it came to be that Draco Malfoy, scion of the House of Malfoy was in short order trying to staunch the flow of blood from his broken nose while said 3rd year Slytherin stormed over to where Harry Potter was lounging in a chair, one leg over the chair's arm.

"Potter!"

"Hi Sam," Harry greeted.

"If this is what it takes to keep inbred dweebs like Malfoy away from me, then I want to be one of your minions as well."

"Okay," Harry agreed. "You're in. Let me know what size t-shirt you need."

"Good. Now is there going to be free candy? Because I don't minion unless I get a daily chocolate frog."

"Wow," Harry looked at a stunned Blaise and Theo Nott. "Who would have thought getting a lot of pretty girls to be my minions would be so hard?"

{-7-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	9. Chapter 8: Let's Meet Lockhart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 2

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-8-}

"I say, Harry? Hold up a second, would you?" asked an unfamiliar voice.

Harry turned around in the otherwise deserted corridor and said, "Who are you?"

"Why, I'm your new Defense teacher," the man smiled. "I'm professor Lockhart."

"Really? You bought into all this magic crap?" Harry wondered.

The man kept smiling. "Yes, I mean No, I mean… uh… what do you mean again?"

"I mean," Harry started, "that all this magic mumbo jumbo is such hogwash here at Hogwarts. It's a joke. I haven't learned any decent card tricks yet. Or sleight of hand. And don't get me started that no one has bothered to show us how to cut someone in half."

The smile faltered. "Wouldn't that kill them?"

"Not if you do it right and put them back together. You know, like David Copperfield. Now that's magic."

"So this David Copperfield fellow certainly knows his magic you say. Has he done any impressive feats that I could take credit, I mean, that he's not known for?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Not sure. You'd have to ask him. I know he has started to make buildings or monuments disappear. That is pretty cool. Not sure which ones."

Lockhart rubbed his chin. "Interesting… very interesting. You know how to get in touch with him?"

"You could always join his fan club," Harry suggested. "So are you going to teach us how to saw a woman in half?"

"Ha-ha-ha, certainly I will, Harry my boy, don't you worry about it. Just let me talk with this Copperfield first to get my… uh… technique down and what have you."

"Meaning what for the meantime? More essays to assign on how vampires are bad?"

"You've done that already, eh? Got any suggestions then?"

"How about teaching us to play poker? At least that is a skill I can use."

"Dragon poker?" Locked inquired, arching an eyebrow.

"Haven't heard about that one," Harry supplied. "Just regular poker. Like the ones done at a casino. Say, have you ever been to a casino?"

"Unfortunately, more than I should," Lockhart admitted.

"So if I understand this right, you are a so-called wizard, you're middle-aged, not married, been to a casino more than once, and yet you have to work here. Hmmm, maybe I don't want you to teach me poker if that is what I have to look forward to," Harry grimaced.

"Hey, I can teach you how to win at poker," Lockhart protested.

"Prove it," Harry challenged.

{-8-}

"Okay, class, remember what I said? Cornish pixies are irritable rascals. Now, deuces are wild, jacks or better to open, no legilimency, and a sickle in the pot to start. Who fancies a game of chance?"

{-8-}

"I can't believe it," Harry grumbled as he walked back to his dorm.

"I know," Blaise commiserated, walking beside him. "My whole allowance for the month gone in a single afternoon."

"I guess we should look at the bright side," Harry said.

"That Professor Lockhart lost his signing bonus?" Blaise looked at Harry, grinning.

"Yeah," Harry chuckled.

"Did you see the way the Weasel cried when he lost his wand?"

"Ahhh, he'll probably get it back once he apologizes or something. No one would want that stick the way he uses it to scratch…"

"Don't finish that statement, Potter!" Blaise instructed.

Harry just grinned. "Still… who knew Granger was such a card shark? I'm going to have to get to know her better."

{-8-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	10. Chapter 9: Filch – the Paranoid Anti-social Stalker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 2

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-9-}

There was blood on the walls. There was a cat on the floor, not moving. Harry stopped his trek to see what was going on. There was Filch and some professors as well. This couldn't be good.

"My Mrs. Norris!" Filch cried again.

"There, there," the headmaster patted him on the back. "We'll catch the culprits who did this," he assured.

"I watch them, you know, sniff," Filch sniffed into his sleeve. "They're rotten to the core. All of them. Even… you! Potter! You did this!"

"What?" That caught Harry off guard.

"Came to watch an old caretaker lose his companion is that it? Come to gloat over your malfeasance?"

"What?" That was Harry again, caught off guard that Filch knew to use the word malfeasance.

"You're around here, boy, so you must be responsible! What did you do to my Mrs. Norris?"

"You know," Harry started, "for a paranoid anti-social stalker, you don't pay close enough attention to me. I'm not skilled enough with chemistry…"

"Potions," Dumbledore corrected.

"Whatever. I'm not skilled enough to pull off doping your cat enough to keep its eyes open."

"Fine, I guess…" Filch agreed.

Harry cocked his head to the side and replied, "Unless I were to use some Crazy Glue to keep its eyes open after I got the cat doped up…"

Filch pointed at Harry and screamed, "See?! See?! Punish him! He did it! He admits it!"

Harry calmly responded, "Not at all. Because I'm still not skilled enough in chemistry…" (Harry looked at Dumbledore to see if he corrected him again) "… at chemistry to figure out how to dope your cat. That is the initial issue I see."

"Fine, I guess…." Filch acquiesced.

"Unless I ordered something from offsite to do it…" Harry surmised.

"See?! See?! He admits it again!" Filch pointed out.

"Not at all. Because there is no way for me to order anything," Harry pointed out. "It's not like there is a phone anywhere in this castle – I know; I've looked."

"You could always order it by owl," Filch pointed out.

"That's crazy talk. Which suits this nut house fine, but does not get past the one thing here: I don't use owls to order supplies because that would mean I would have to believe in magic – which as this old and senile patient will confirm, I don't believe it," Harry pointed to Dumbledore who nodded that Harry was speaking the truth.

"…but you're in a school for magic," Filch almost asked.

"Don't remind me," Harry grimaced.

"Then, why are you here?" Filch was confused.

Harry grit his teeth, saying, "Apparently my parents were so concerned about my mental well-being while I was a toddler, that they enrolled me in this loony bin before I had my first shrink test. Gotta love the people that grew up in that generation of free love.

"I thought that was the 60's. Lots of free pharmaceuticals too. Good times," Filch reminisced.

Harry put his hands up in surrender. "TMI, man, T-M-I."

{-9-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	11. Chapter 10: The Plight of Colin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 2

New chapter by Steve2

Something that was fun to write, and I did it partially before I even started this story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-10-}

"Look, I'm telling you, Superduperman could kick any Dark Lord's behind six ways to Sunday," Fred pressed his case to the table.

At said table sat his brother and fellow Gryffindor, George, and two Slytherins: Blaise Zabini and one Harry Potter. It was another typical Saturday morning, roughly a half hour before lunch, and the foursome were exploring their favorite topic – that of Harry trying to get them interested in superhero comics. Maybe break them out of that 'I can do magic' insanity.

"That may be so, but what happened to Filch's cat probably wasn't done by a dark lord," Blaise pointed out.

"That may be so, young snake," George agreed, his head coming up from reading one of Harry's comics, "but it wasn't done as a joke either. Believe me, we know jokes and that wasn't funny."

"You know," Harry chimed in, "I still haven't figured out how they got the cat's eyes to stay open like that. I mean, Filch was all for blaming me and who could blame him, but my chemistry scores aren't that good yet for me to make a hallucinogenic to do that."

"A what?"

"Hmmm, that's right – you still believe in magic. Okay. How about: I haven't figured out how to brew a 'potion' of doing that."

"Oooohhhh," both brothers oh'ed.

"Hey, Harry?" a different voice asked behind the dark-haired boy.

Harry turned in his seat. "Yes?" he said.

FWOOSH! A camera bulb went off in his face. "Ack!" he grimaced.

"Thanks, Harry! That was a great shot. I'll get you some copies when I develop them," he grinned happily. "Maybe we can do lunch?"

"My eyes! I can't see!"

"I'll go get them developed and we can do lunch together. I've always wanted that. Bye, Harry!"

"You know," Harry blinked vision back into his now-working eyes. "I'm really beginning to hate that kid," he grumbled.

Fred had an idea. It happened now and then. "You know, Harry, if you were a superhero, how would you handle him?"

"Good question, brother of mine in all but appearances. In fact, let's make it an open question to the table. How would we handle that kid or get a superhero to handle that Colin kid. Best one with an idea by next week wins a prank of their choice."

Harry cocked his head sideways and smiled a knowing grin.

"Uh-oh. I know that look. Get ready to pay up, guys," Blaise said.

{-10-}

A week later, they sat down at the same table, before lunch, to go over their ideas.

Fred pulled out a picture of a mostly orange-wearing man. "If Colin came at me, I'll call Auqamanti-man…"

"You mean, Aquaman," Harry corrected.

Fred replied, "Whatever. I'd have him drench the kid in water every time he pulled out his camera. How's that?"

"Wow, Fred, you thought of that all by yourself? Or did you have help?" Harry shook his head.

Fred grinned and said, "Ahhh, I started to do my research on Colin and found my heart really wasn't into it since the kid only seems to mess with you."

"Bite me," Harry returned.

"Hey, I'm not a vampire," Fred commented.

"Neither am I. What's that got to do with anything?" Harry wondered.

"Before we go down this tangent again," George began, "I'd like to point out that if I had my way, I'd call my sister Ginny when Colin brought out his camera so she could stick up for you, Harry."

"Go to hell, you wanker," Harry grinned.

George laughed at that and ruffled Harry's hair a bit. Harry of course shoved George's hand off his head.

Harry looked at Blaise for a little help. Or something.

"If it were me," Blaise said, "I'd file a complaint with the Aurors and have the camera confiscated."

"That's not the superhero way," Harry pointed out.

"True, but I am an aristocrat, and we have an image to uphold."

"So what did you come up with, Harry?" Fred asked.

Harry pulled out some parchment and handed it over to the guys to read. "This is a little something I came up with."

{-10-}

**The Plight of Colin**

It was late at night. Reed Richards, or Mr. Fantastic as he was known to most everyone in the city, was just finishing work on his latest invention, an electronic babysitter for Franklin when he heard pounding coming from the lab. He wanted to ignore it, but it was persistent and he eventually got up from his computer and started to investigate.

It couldn't be Johnny or Ben – they were gone for the weekend. Sue was downstairs and if she needed anything, she would just call on the intercom. Where was that blasted noise coming from?

Uh-oh, he froze, finally realizing where the sound was coming from. The portal to the Negative Zone now had a metal disk in front of it to keep out anybody that shouldn't be coming in without an invitation.

Reed quickly walked over and set the security settings of the room on maximum and prepared to open the portal. From overhead panels, lethal looking devices of all shapes and sizes pointed towards to the portal.

Reed walked next to the portal and clicked the button to open it.

The disk slid aside and there in all his green and purple glory stood Annihilus, the most feared foe of the Negative Zone Reed could think of.

They looked at each other for a few moments. Reed was about to press another button to start the lethal devices shooting at the creature, for all the good it would do.

"You took the other one through this portal, man," Annihilus said. "My forces saw you take him with you and your youngling."

Understanding, Reed replied, "Yes, we brought Harry back with us."

"We found another of his kind and are giving him to you." With that, Annihilus motioned and one of his forces brought forth a smiling young man with blond hair.

"Hi! You haven't seen Harry around have you?"

"Quiet!" Annihilus roared to the young man. Then back to Reed, "You will take him."

Reed, unsure of what exactly was going on, stretched about six feet forward to reach the young man, taking him by hand and bringing him to Earth.

"Thanks, mister! Gosh, that was fun, Mr. Annihilus! We should do it again!" Then the young man reached into a pocket and pulled out an old camera with a flashbulb and took a quick picture of Annihilus.

"He is yours now, man!" Annihilus decreed, moving back into the Negative Zone. "No givebacks!"

Reed clicked the close button on the disk and could have sworn he heard Annihilus in the distance mutter, "…sucker" but wasn't sure so let it go. Sensing no immediate threat, the lethal devices all returned back to their ready state, hidden.

The lab back to normal, Reed turned to the young man. "Hello. My name is Reed Richards."

"Hi! I'm Colin Creevy! Wow, nice place you have here. And gravity! That's great! Say, you wouldn't happen to know Harry Potter would you? He and I are great friends!"

"Why, yes, I know Harry Potter. How do you know him?"

"He and I went to school together! We're pals!"

"Well, let's see about talking to him. Are you hungry after your stay in the Negative Zone?"

"Sure! Harry and I always ate at the same table, you know that?"

"Hi Reed, what's up?" came the voice over a special phone.

"Hi Harry. An interesting development has come up from the Negative Zone."

"You need any help with that?" Harry asked helpfully.

"Funny you should say that. Do you know a Colin Creevy?"

"Sure. Blond hair, medium height, smiles a lot, has a camera. Why?"

Reed explained the situation with Annihilus to Harry. "…so you understand why you would be the first person I contacted if he is another wizard like you."

"Hmmm, that is certainly odd," agreed Harry. "I wonder why he was in the Negative Zone."

"That is a mystery, Harry. One he might share with you."

"I agree, Reed. Say, I'm in the middle of something here for the next six hours. Do you mind keeping him until I can get there a little later tonight?"

"Sure thing, Harry. He's eating some of Sue's sandwiches now. It shouldn't be a problem."

"Thanks, Reed. I'll call you and let you know when to expect me. Give my love to Sue and Franklin."

"See you soon, Harry," Reed concluded, hanging up the phone.

Half a world away, a monarch finished listening to an intercepted call. His calculating eyes processed all that he had heard. This was not something to be missed.

"You! Ready the shuttle. We need to visit an old friend within the next five hours."

Roughly four and a half hours later…

"…and that was when I first met Harry. That was when I knew we'd be best friends forever."

"Glxybltle?" Franklin looked up to him, putting something plastic in his mouth.

Sue was asleep on the couch.

"I know, it surprised me as well, but we are still best buds to this day!"

"ALERT! ALERT! INTRUDER DETECTED!" boomed a mechanical voice throughout the living quarters.

Sue woke instantly. "Reed! What's happening?" She lifted Franklin into her arms and put up a force field around them.

Suddenly, Dr. Doom was standing a few feet away, one hand deactivating the chameleon field he'd used to infiltrate the building, and the other hand grabbing the wrist of Colin.

"Come with me, boy!" he spat, using his free hand to blow a hole in the wall. On the other side was a small plane that seemed to float next to the building.

"Sue!" Reed exclaimed as he ran into the room.

"Another time, Richards!" Doom gloated as he flew to the waiting plan, his prisoner in tow.

"Thanks, guys! I had a swell time!" Colin yelled after them.

In low orbit of Earth, Doom set the controls back to his native land and turned to his captive secured in the seat behind him.

FWOOSH!

"What the…?" Doom startled as Colin put his camera away. Strange, he thought, the restraints were all undone. He would need to look into that some more.

"Are you taking me to see Harry now?" Colin smiled as he looked out the window.

"We are returning to my native land first. There I will find out what makes you a wizard like Potter and I will take that power and add it to my own," Doom crowed.

"Okay," Colin looked at him. "Hey, did I ever tell you how I became friends with Harry Potter? It all started the day I learned I was a wizard and the teacher came out to tell me a little history of the magical world, and she had this book about Harry and…"

Roughly four hours later Doom's craft landed at his castle and the Doombots rushed forward to secure it and provide any assistance they could to their master. The door opened and out strode their master in his green cowl. Behind him was another man of late teens, early 20's approximately carrying a camera.

FWOOSH! Went the bulb as he took a picture of the Doombots servicing the plane. "…and that was how my first day at Hogwarts ended. Now the next day, I woke up early so I could get downstairs and meet Harry before breakfast."

"Silence!" Doom commanded.

"Sure thing. I can be silent. Uh-huh," Colin agreed.

Doom continued his stride to his lab, Colin walking behind him, taking pictures.

The silence lasted until he got to the door.

"Say, your castle doesn't look anything like Hogwarts. Have you ever thought of having students here? I bet you could get Harry to come if you made it nicer…"

Doom turned around and incanted a silencing spell and pointed to Colin. There! That should give him some much needed quiet.

They made their way down a couple corridors to the lab. "Neat!" exclaimed Colin, taking pictures of all the equipment.

Doom looked at the young wizard. How had he broken that silencing spell…? No matter, he could prattle all he wanted but it would avail him naught. He motioned for one of his Doombots to grab Colin and secure him to a table.

Colin did not struggle as the Doombot led him over to a table and strapped him to it.

"I don't remember any kind of table like this at Hogwarts," Colin began, "but I knew of a certain potions professor that I wanted to do this to. So did Harry. We talked about it at length some evenings. Let me tell you about it…"

Doom turned away from Colin and started up the machines. Within moments there was a satisfactory hum going throughout the lab and Doom moved to see the results on the monitor. That was strange. It wasn't reading anything…

"…so Harry told me about his first day in potions class. It was a nightmare, really…"

Doom turned towards Colin and startled to find that he was no longer on the table but instead directly behind him, still taking pictures.

Doom looked at the table again. The restraints were still active. How did he…

"How did you get off that table, boy?" Doom barked.

"Hmm? Oh, I got up. It was easy. Say, you want to hear about my first lunch with Harry? It was my second day at Hogwarts and…"

Four more times Doom tried to start an analysis of Colin.

He tried to immobilize him and use a hand scanning device. Colin simply smiled and talked about Harry as the device crumbled in Doom's hands and Colin raised his hand to take a picture of it.

He ordered one of his Doombots to hold Colin while he cast spells. Colin told about his first encounter with a Weasley (whoever that was), who was also friends with Harry, and the spells for some reason all said that the camera was indeed a vintage 50's style press camera. Doom was looking at his hands trying to figure out if he had miscast the spell when Colin took a selfie with the Doombot, his arm now around the neck of the bot.

He ordered up a special treat for his guest, a food bar that Colin ate. That should have been enough knock-out juice to keep him asleep for a week, Doom thought, as he put him back on the table. He went to his monitor again to see the results and saw… nothing. Turning, he wasn't surprised to see Colin behind him, smiling and taking his picture. FWOOSH!

He ordered Colin to give him his arm so he could take some blood. Colin did so, and soon Doom thought he had the upper hand until he went to find a vein. It took a few minutes and Doom put the needle in. He extracted a vial of blood and grinned in triumph. He put it under a microscope to see if there were any oddities before he did further testing only to see the blood evaporate before his eyes. He checked the tube. Sure enough, it was empty. Colin took his picture while talking about Harry.

Doom knew he was going to have to think more on this.

"Boy! You will be put in a room until I have need for you again!" With that, he instructed a Doombot to take Colin away and put him in a dungeon while he went to his room to think more on this.

Day 2 started on a note that Doom had been expecting. Somehow the wizard Potter got a hold of his private AOL account and sent him an email. It stated:

Doom – let me know when you want to return Colin. HP

No threats, Doom mused. His defenses must be working if it is keeping that Harry Potter away from retrieving his compatriot.

Doom smirked. He knew it would be only a matter of time to find out these wizards' secret.

FWOOSH!

Blast it! How did that wizard get out of the dungeon the Doombots had put him in?

Across the country, in Scotland, Ororo Munroe looked at her friend. "You sent Doom a message?"

"Yep."

"That's all?"

"Yep."

A moment went by. "I don't understand this. You jump into action at much less. Why not go and rescue this other wizard, Colin?"

Harry smirked at some hidden knowledge and replied, "Because I know Colin."

Day 3 started with Dr. Doom on his throne. Granted it was porcelain and had water in the bottom of it and a handle on the tank, but it was his throne. He was reading a leading periodical on robot creation: Starlog.

FWOOSH!

"What the…?" Doom shouted, looking up and seeing Colin pointing his camera out of the Monarch Rain Drip system, past the sheets covering the tub.

"It's a natural shot, Mr. Doom!" Colin greeted. "There was this time when I was in the Gryffindor tower and had to sneak my way to the girl's showers, which wasn't easy even if Harry was helping me…"

Day 4 was a bright and sunny day. Doom had erected magical barriers around his throne room and made sure to look in the Monarch Rain Drip system area for anyone hiding there. He was relieved no one else was there when he relieved himself.

Later, he had a Doombot bring up Colin to his lab.

This, of course, was the start of the day's problems.

"Where is the boy, robot?" Doom commanded at the Doombot that entered the room sans Colin.

"Male subject not in cell, exalted one," it replied.

"Oh Mr. Doom!" came that joyful voice behind Doom. He knew he wasn't going to like it.

He turned and fate proved him right.

Colin was standing next to the exam table, this time with a spare set of Doom armor in his hands.

No, not quite a spare set.

This one was shaped like a woman.

"Hi, Doomy," a falsetto voice came from Colin as he manipulated the head of the armor. "I thought you were lonely so I'm here to brighten your day."

Doom was at a loss for words.

Day 5 started with Dr. Doom giving Colin a present. Granted, he wasn't one to wrap a present much, but he still tried.

Colin opened the newspaper-wrapped box.

"What it is?" Colin grinned.

Dr. Doom smoothly replied, "It's a cow bell. I hear you young people like to wear it around your necks these days."

Day 6 started off early with Doom standing in a pentagram, chanting up a storm.

This was going to do it, he just knew it. Those wizard secrets would be his!

Of course, this woke Colin up from his slumber in the dungeon, and he quickly made his way up to the courtyard in time to see Doom chant next to a bonfire.

FWOOSH! The picture was taken.

Doom knew he would beat this young boy. He could take as many pictures as he wanted. Nothing would stop him now.

Colin listened for another few seconds and then started singing along with the chanting.

_"Take the last train to Clarksville,_   
_And I'll meet you at the station._   
_You can be there by four thirty,_   
_'Cause I made your reservation._   
_Don't be slow, oh, no, no, no!_   
_Oh, no, no, no!"_

He was no singer, and it showed as Doom got distracted and messed up a verse in the chant in order to sing along with "Last Train to Clarksville" by the Monkees.

He stopped moving around the pentagram.

He had failed in this attempt.

He looked down.

The cow bell was now around Doom's neck.

Day 7 did not start off well. Colin was in the lab with Dr. Doom, who had grown frustrated at not having any luck with this young wizard.

FWOOSH!

Blast it, that was the last straw!

An irate Dr. Doom turned and shot off a killing spell towards Colin.

The blue-ish/purple spell crossed the couple meters in an instant and hit Colin, enveloping him in its lethal fury.

The moment froze.

Then…

Colin raised his camera and took a picture of Doom's expression (as it were), saying, "Great shot, Mr. Doom!"

How did he survive… Doom's mind ran over scenarios of how to survive that spell but didn't come up with any.

By Day 8, Doom had finally had enough. He sat at his Commodore computer and started up his system, waiting for the modem to connect at its blazing speed of 28.8.

Once up, he composed a message.

Potter. You win. This wizard is yours. He will be in my courtyard at noon for you pick him up. Dr. Doom – King.

Message sent, he looked around at the mess Colin had made of his devices. Ash, crumbled wires, bits of metal and plastic. He shook his head.

A short while later, Doom took Colin out to courtyard and they waited for noon to come. A legion of Doombots were all pointing guns towards Colin. "Wow, Mr. Doom! That's a lot of robots. Say, did I ever tell you about the time Harry asked me about golems?"

A nervous tick started above Doom's left eye.

A helicopter in the distance took shape.

Soon, Doom thought. Soon, all would be better.

His defenses down, the helicopter was joined by three more helicopters, and the first one landed. Out jumped several individuals with guns pointed at Doom.

Two individuals ran forward and grabbed an un-protesting Colin and started dragging him off to the helicopter.

Doom watched impassively.

"We have him, leader!" radioed the first man. "Yes. He is onboard. Hail Hydra!"

Doom still watched impassively.

The helicopter rose, one guard still on the ground, his weapon trained on Doom.

The aircraft all flew away.

Silence.

"The exit is over there," Doom indicated a wooden door.

The human guard ran to the door and pushed.

"Pull it open, you imbecile!" Doom yelled.

He did so and ran off.

"Good help is so hard to find," Doom groused as he returned to his lab.

He stopped when he saw Potter in the lab, looking at something on a desk.

"Where's Colin?" Harry asked innocently, looking Dr. Doom in the eyes.

"About 30 kilometers from here moving quickly. If I had to guess, he was taken by a terrorist organization by the name of Hydra." Suckers.

Harry clicked his tongue, scratched his nose, and said, "I was going to ask what you wanted him for, but I think the better question would be, what did you do to him, you perv?"

To Doom's dismay, Potter levitated up the female Doom armor that was hidden behind a file cabinet.

"That's not mine. I swear it."

"A likely story," Harry noted. "You despots are all the same."

Harry Potter didn't stay long, Doom was glad. Potter looked around the lab some more, saw the pictures of Doom and Colin on the desk and then waved his hand and teleported away, probably going after those Hydra members.

Doom smiled. All was right again with the world.

"Doomy?" a voice called after him.

Slowly, he turned his head and saw the female armor animated once again, coming his way while swishing its hips.

"Oh no," Doom started.

FWOOSH!

Panicked, Doom turned around to see a smaller version of Doom armor, looking like Colin in the face and having metal hair, walking around taking pictures. "Wow, Mr. Doom! This place is great! Are you and Mrs. Doom going to kiss? Want me to take a picture of that?"

Doom almost cried. He settled for his nervous tick spreading to both eyes. "My life sucks…"

{-10-}

Fred, George and Blaise all put the story down and looked at an anxious Potter.

"You win," Fred said simply.

George supplied, "You have too much time on your hands, Harry."

Harry grinned. "Blame it on the damn hologram teaching History. We really need to talk to the programmers to tweak the audio files. It's all I can do to stay awake in that class."

Blaise chuckled and shook his head. Only Harry could come up with something that outlandish.

"Now about that prank you owe me, how about a certain device I'm thinking of…"

{-10-}

Steve2 Note: I will give a shout out to the first person who can tell me where this story should have taken place. It was originally written as an omake for a certain story (which is a very large story with 20+ chapters right now) and the author thought it wasn't appropriate for his story since his is more serious and mine is humorous. Still, I hated to waste an omake so here it is. More of my other omakes to come! Not like this one though.

There was one additional item for this chapter. This "omake" was originally planned as the first of three short stories that I envisioned. Would you like to read the others? If so, let me know and I will work on them. They have not yet been created. But it does include more members of Harry's current and future posse. And I will also have to find a place to put them in. Grins.

And now a final question to all the readers: what should the prank be? Put on your thinking caps, folks! Best idea may be included later on.

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	12. Chapter 11: Bathrooms, Tunnels, and Teachers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 2

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-11-}

Harry felt like he was having Déjà vu again. It was because of that Weasley. It's always a Weasley he knew.

It had started out simply enough. It was nearing the end of a lousy year. Someone kept drugging students and putting them into comas. Not anyone from his house, but that's because they knew not to take recreational pharmaceuticals. Harry was in his room when someone knocked on the door. It was Malfoy. Another reason to not have a good day.

"Potter, you have a visitor. Outside."

"Really? You can't just bring them in?"

"Not this one. It's a Weasel."

So Harry went outside the common room entrance and who should be waiting for him but Ron Weasley.

Harry looked around for a few seconds. "Where's Granger? You two going to kidnap me again?"

"Yep," and with that, he grabbed his arm and yanked him to the Defense professor's office.

See? Déjà vu.

{-11-}

"Professor! I've got Potter with me like you asked! Are we going to find my sister now?"

"Oh, um, right," Lockhart began, then stopped. "You actually got him before I could get out, eh? Hmmm, that's interesting. But no, I really don't know where your sister is. Sorry," he tried to give a winning smile.

Oh for the love of… "She's probably in the 2nd floor loo again. Same as last time," Harry said.

Weasley and Lockhart looked amazed at him. "You know?" Ron prompted.

"Sure."

"How could you know?"

"Oh, the holograms told me. They're insane, you know. They think they're ghosts. Not a bit of ectoplasm on any of them. Right, ghosts," Harry snorted.

For a second time that night, Harry found himself dragged to another part of the castle. See, Déjà vu, right? Only this time instead of Weasley and Granger dragging him, he had Weasley pointing his "wand" at the professor and him.

Knowing the Ollivander guy, Weasley's wand probably had a built-in lighter as well that could put his clothes on fire. He pointed that out to the professor who nodded that he understood. Finally, someone showed some common sense!

{-11-}

After marching them both to the girl's bathroom, Ron looked at Harry and said, "So where is she?"

"Dunno. I've never been here before. I'm just glad it wasn't a bunch of stalls with chamber pots in here. That would have been in line with this looney bin."

"You could always ask the ghosts…" Ron started.

"Holograms," Harry corrected.

"Whatever. Ask them where she is."

"Sure. Why not? Hey, hologram-girl with the glasses and squeaky voice! Yeah, you! I see you over there! You see a girl here recently? Looks like Weasley!"

"Oh, sure. She went down the stairs in the middle of the room a little while back."

Stairs? Harry looked around and didn't see anything. Just a big circular sink. Harry looked around some more and then started thinking logically, which was a trait his inept classmates didn't have.

If he were some stairs… where would he be? Under the toilets? I don't think so. That just leaves the sink. He went back to the sink and noticed the lines of the carvings. Well, isn't that interesting…

"Hey, hologram! How do you get the stairs to show?"

Giggle. "Why, you hiss at it of course!" Then the dang hologram up and disappeared. Typical.

Hiss? Of course! "Of course!" Harry exclaimed. "It's voice activated! Like the holograms!"

"What?" That was Ron.

"Think! We're in a girl's bathroom to find some hidden stairs. No wonder no one else could find it; all the previous headmasters were too chicken to venture into the girl's loo. How insane is that?! Anyway, the stairs are under here. All we need to do it hiss at the sink for it to open."

"Hiss, hiss, hiss," Ron hissed in his best hissy voice.

"Hey, that was a little rude, don't you think," Harry shot back. "Just hiss at the sink, no need for calling names."

Ron blinked at Harry in confusion. "Look, why don't you try it," Ron hoped, keeping his wand still pointed at Lockhart.

"Fine." Harry got down on his knees and stared at the snake symbols on the sink.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked.

"Trying to get into character. If you do something, you might as well do it right."

"Can I quote you on that?" Lockhart inquired.

"Quiet! Let Potter work," Ron spat.

"Hissy, hiss, hiss, hissy," Harry hissy-ed.

The sink broke apart like Harry suspected it would and revealed some stairs. "There you go. Stairs. Now I'm going back to my room, and…"

"Down! Both of you go down!" Ron demanded, brandishing his wand.

Damn. Déjà vu. Harry was sure of it.

{-11-}

I always thought it was a little weird no one could figure out that big sink covered a set of stairs.

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	13. Chapter 12: A-D-D at its Finest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 2

Original Chapter 4 by Rune, updates by Steve2

Rune: This is just near the end of the second book; except the meeting isn't taking place in whoever's office it was originally to take place in. Huh?

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-12-}

Albus Dumbledore, Cornelius Fudge, Molly Weasley, and Arthur Weasley were in the Great Hall. It was just after dinner so they were the only ones in there, besides Professor Snape, who was hiding in a shadowy corner.

Molly was screaming about her daughter.

Cornelius was screaming about the Boy-Who-Lived.

And Albus was trying to get the both of them to quiet down.

Arthur was quiet. He had an odd feeling: like something big was about to come through the doors of the Great Hall at any moment.

His odd feeling hit dead on.

The double doors slammed open to reveal a pissed off and bloodied Harry Potter trailed by a shy and also bloodied Ginny Weasley.

"Ginny, my baby girl!" Molly cried, as she and Arthur rushed over to their youngest child. Harry in the meantime stalked right up to Dumbledore.

"You set an anaconda on me!"

"A what?" Cornelius and Albus asked, at the same time.

"The big-ass snake I just stuck this sword through the mouth of!" he yelled, waving the Gryffindor Sword around causing the two men to duck.

"How big, exactly?" Cornelius asked.

"Big-ass big, that's how big!" Harry answered, before turning to Dumbledore. "You people really want me to believe in this magic crap don't ya?"

Cornelius turned to Dumbledore, confused. Dumbledore gave him a sheepish look. "He doesn't believe in magic."

"Doesn't… believe… magic," Cornelius was unable to handle that piece of information and fainted on the spot. Dumbledore was not worried about that; he was far too interested in Harry's ranting.

"Of course I don't believe in magic! You're all insane asylum nuts! You let a dodgy old codger of questionable sanity, with a lemon drop obsession, rule this insane asylum! And you think I believe in the stuff you all are spouting? Yeah right! No chance in hell! Not even a snowball's. Why do I feel like I'm forgetting something?" Harry cut off his rant to think. Then it hit him.

He'd left Weasley somewhere in the school's escape tunnel after he'd hit his head on a stalactite. He'd also left Lockhart somewhere along the way, after the failed attempt to wipe Harry's memory. Said attempt only failed because Harry ducked… sort of.

**Flashback**

Harry wasn't even paying attention to Lockhart's rant about memory spells being the only thing the idiot was good at.

He had found a rock.

Just as Lockhart shot the spell, Harry bent down to pick up the rock. It was lodged into the earth a little, causing him to have to dig it out. That gave the spell enough time to ricochet off of a metal wall relief and hit Lockhart smack between the eyes.

"Pretty rock," Harry said. "Shiny too," he cooed. He admired his new rock and put it in his pocket. Only then did he notice the mumbling Lockhart.

"Poor guy," Harry sighed, "Just another to fall prey to the insane ones." He shook his head in pity then went on to find Ginny Weasley, one of his minions.

**End Flashback**

"My rock!" Harry exclaimed, all thought of Lockhart and Ron Weasley gone, as he pulled it out of his pocket. Dumbledore face-faulted.

'A-D-D at its finest,' Snape thought with a grin.

{-12-}

Rune: That was fun to write. This came from boredom and listening to too much Bill Engvall. Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Rune/Steve2  
**End of Year 2**


	14. Chapter 13: Gollum's Cousin Said I Mustn't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 3

Original Chapter 6 by Rune, updates by Steve2

Rune: Scenes from the third and second books included.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-13-}

Harry sighed as he dragged his trunk alongside him. His uncle blamed everything on him, it seemed.

His Aunt Marge had come to visit. That very evening, she had taken it upon herself to insult Harry's parents (as usual). Mr. Rock had then taken it upon himself to attack her and hit her in the head – the center of the forehead, in fact. Apparently Mr. Rock hit a pressure point because Marge then started to swell up like a balloon.

Dumbledore would probably claim that his 'magic' had reacted in anger and that it had thrown Mr. Rock at her before blowing her up (for she did, in fact, go boom – not in the house, thankfully).

But magic did not exist, and Dumbledore was nuts, so it must have been a pressure point.

And Vernon, quite naturally, blamed all of this on him. Maybe he should be the one going to the insane asylum. Perhaps he should send Dumbledore a letter. As Harry pondered this, he was swinging his wand, pretending it was a sword.

'Pop.'

"Oh, look," Harry said cheerfully, "A bus. That's convenient." He boarded it.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus. I'm Stan Shunpike and I'll be your conductor for this evening. Where would you like to go?"

"To the Leaky Cauldron, please," Harry said, "I think it's in London somewhere."

"In London somewhere, he says," Stan chuckled, "Hit it Ern!"

Harry figured the ride was just plain weird since he was tired and probably a little down that he had been left his house before setting up the VCR.

{-13-}

**The Next Morning**

Dumbledore happily accepted the letter from the pretty white owl and then choked on another lemon drop as he read it.

'Dear Insane Asylum Head Person,

Having realized that I am sane and my dearly beloved uncle is the one with the problems, I happily give up my spot for him.

On September 1st, you should send Minder Snape to collect Vernon Dursley from #4 Privet Drive, as I am no longer there.

Have a nice day,  
Harry Potter'

After managing to swallow the candy (before his rapidly reddening face turned purple, or worse, blue), Dumbledore threw some Floo powder in the fireplace, "Minerva!"

{-13-}

**Half an Hour Later**

"Mr. Potter, you have to go to Hogwarts," Minerva sighed, "Don't you remember? We had this discussion last year."

Harry did remember.

**Flashback**

"Mister Harry Potter," the little creature said in awe.

"OH MY GOD! It's Gollum!" Harry exclaimed, before taking a closer look, "Well, maybe Gollum's cousin anyway."

"Mister Harry Potter is in great danger! He must not return to Hogwarts!" the creature said.

"So… I don't have to go back to Hogwarts?"

"Mister Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts."

"Yes!" Harry pumped a fist into the air.

One Month Later (After Harry Failed To Show Up To The Feast)

"Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said, "You have to go to Hogwarts."

"No, I don't," Harry replied.

"Yes, you do."

"Don't."

"Do."

"Don't."

"Do."

"Don't"

"Mr. Potter, what exactly makes you think you don't have to go?"

"Gollum's cousin said I mustn't," Harry told her. McGonagall's eyebrows rose.

"And if Gollum's cousin was lying?" she asked, dryly. Harry blinked.

"Damn."

**End Flashback**

Harry shook his head to clear away the memory.

"But my uncle has my spot," Harry told her.

"No he doesn't, Mr. Potter."

"Yes he does. I gave it to him."

"You can't give your spot away."

"Oh."

"…"

"So, can I sign him up instead? He really needs help, and possibly anger management classes."

"No Mr. Potter. You may not sign up your uncle for Hogwarts."

"…"

"…"

"Damn."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"How about Dudley? He has problems too."

McGonagall groaned.

{-13-}

As always, read and review, please. Smiles.

Rune/Steve2


	15. Chapter 14: Sirius & Harry at Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 3

New Chapter by Steve2

Steve2: This is another omake that I made for a different story that wasn't used. Now I have a chance to use it. It fits in nicely with this story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-14-}

It was an overcast day in London in August, the day before had been hot but as usual for Harry, once he got his mind to do something, the weather usually turned foul. Hermione, Blaise, and Harry had come to Trafalgar Square to see the tourist sights, the first time for any of them. Harry was enjoying his time, despite the lousy weather.

Laughing, they made their way through the throngs of people taking pictures and avoiding double-decker red buses on the narrow streets.

They had been enjoying themselves for about five minutes before Blaise heard the tell-tale sound of an apparation. Harry looked around for the popping sound originator and saw a man with a determined expression.

It was Sirius Black.

"It's Sirius Black!" shouted a local, having seen the wanted posters and ads on the telly.

Screams erupted and the square started to clear.

Harry moved away from Hermione and Blaise to have a better view of the ex-Auror.

Sirius waited a few moments for the crowd to clear back, noting that he only had a few minutes before the Bobbies arrived.

Sirius looked at Harry. "Dude!"

Harry's eyebrows rose at that. "Dude!" he replied in kind.

Sirius pointed to Hermione, but still concentrated on Harry. "Dude!"

Harry pointed at himself. "Dude!"

Sirius' expression softened. He put his wand away in its holster. "Dude?"

Harry grinned. "Dude!"

"Dude!" Sirius grinned back.

Harry's arms moved into a welcome mode. "Dude."

Sirius ran forward to Harry and gave him a hug. "Dude," he agreed.

Hermione looked at the action between the two males. She then looked at Blaise and said, "What the hell was that?"

He replied, "Oh, they were just having a conversation."

"What the hell kind of conversation is just saying 'dude' back and forth?"

"It's a guy thing."

Hermione shook her head, muttering, "Men. I'll never understand them."

Harry looked at his godfather, then they both tried to listen… and there it was: the sound of approaching police.

"I gotta split," Sirius announced.

"Word," Harry nodded.

{-14-}

Later, Harry is being interrogat… er… asked polite questions by Headmaster Dumbledore.

"So, Harry, you actually saw Sirius Black in London?"

"Sure did," Harry grinned.

"And you didn't run away?"

"Whatever for?"

"Well, he's a psychotic killer for one thing," Albus started.

"Psychotic? Are you kidding me? He's no such thing. And after being here for a couple years, believe me, I know."

"Then what is he, Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked the Headmaster in the eyes and replied, "He's a dude, professor. He's a dude."

"A dude?"

"Yep. And dudes aren't psychotic."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"He's still a killer," Albus countered.

"Could be. But he's a dude at heart."

{-14-}

This was a fun one! As always, read and review, please. Smiles.

Steve2


	16. Chapter 15: Mr. Rock, The Dementor Attacking Rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 3

Original Chapter 5 by Rune, updates by Steve2

Rune: At the request of ladylookslikeadude, I am doing the scene from POA with the dementors on the train.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-15-}

The train skidded to a stop and the air got colder. Harry knew it was something to do with him. Lousy weather usually implied that in all the stories he'd ever read.

"What – is it winter already?" Harry asked, sleepily, waking up from his nap. Blaise, the only other one in the compartment besides the sleeping professor, glared at him.

"Potter, I take back every nice thing I've ever called you," Blaise told him, "and replace them all with: 'You're an idiot!' It was warm, suddenly followed by an oppressive cold. That can only mean one thing. Dementors are close by, probably searching the train for Sirius Black."

"Don't see why. He's obviously not here," Harry said, pulling out Mr. Rock (the rock he took from the chamber the year before; he ended up calling it Mr. Rock to freak out the elder Dursleys and the name stuck) and tossing it up and down. "Hmmm, well, unless he disguised himself as Mr. Rock."

Harry stared suspiciously at his rock for a moment before shrugging and continuing to toss it up and down. Blaise rolled his eyes.

"If you don't believe in magic, how can you possibly believe that Black is pretending to be your rock?" Blaise asked, eying Lupin. He could have sworn he saw Lupin twitch.

"You'd be surprised at the amount of technology the government keeps from us. Black might have gotten his hands on a super hologram creation device or something like that," Harry replied. "Or even met the scientists at school; they could have done something."

"First you're in an 'Insane Asylum Minder in Training', and now you're a conspiracy theorist." There! Lupin twitched! "What's next, Harry?"

"I'm going to be an astronaut." And Lupin twitched again. There's no way he was really sleeping.

"What the hell?" Blaise cursed, as the door to the compartment opened.

"Holy crap! It's Black" (guess who twitched again) "dressed up as a Nazgûl! Mr. Rock, sacrifice yourself to protect us!" Harry closed his eyes and threw the rock as hard as he could. He heard a smack and a thump before he risked opening his eyes.

"Harry," Blaise said calmly, "Congratulations. You just knocked out a Dementor, using nothing more than your pet rock."

"…"

"…"

"Is that a good thing?" Lupin shuddered and Blaise was damn sure he was awake.

{-15-}

Rune: That one was fun to write. I missed the word 'nothing' in the first post, so this is just adding the word.

Read and Review please! Smiles!

Rune/Steve2


	17. Chapter 16: Not the Brightest Pea in the Pod

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 3

Original Chapter 12 by Rune, updates by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-16-}

"Harry," Hermione said, in an exasperated voice that she used quite frequently with him. "The thing on the train was a Dementor, not Black dressed as a Nazgûl."

"Nuh-uh," Harry said. "What's a Dementor anyway?"

"A magical creature that makes the area around it really cold and sucks the happiness out of people," Blaise answered.

"See, that's your first problem. Magic isn't real, so there can't be such things as magical creatures."

Lupin, along with many of the other Gryffindors and Slytherins in the room watched as the three of them argued. It was the first Defense class after Snape stepping in for Lupin. Well, it was the first Defense class period for Harry, who had skipped all the other ones. Hermione had forced him to come to this one.

"Then how do you explain the drop in temperature and the… the…"

"Happiness suckage?" Blaise supplied.

"Yes, the happiness suckage," Hermione said, before giving Blaise a strange look and mouthing the word 'suckage'. Blaise shrugged.

"Hmm… maybe it was a real Nazgûl!"

"It wasn't a Nazgûl; it was a Dementor!"

"Same difference," Harry agreed.

Hermione looked about ready to commit murder.

"I thought the Nazgûl couldn't die," another Muggleborn Gryffindor said. "Your rock killed one."

"No. The Nazgûl can't be killed by any man, or so they claim," Hermione said.

"And Mr. Rock is a rock, not a man," Harry added.

"But you call it Mr. Rock, so it's a man-rock," Hermione said, "therefore it could not have killed the thing were it an actual Nazgûl, so it wasn't a Nazgûl; it was a Dementor." Hermione looked smug, as if daring Harry to contradict her.

"But… Mr. Rock isn't a man-rock, it's a girl-rock," Harry clarified.

"Then why do you call it Mr. Rock?" Blaise asked.

"Because I let Dudley name it."

"Dudley?"

"My cousin."

"The one that makes Crabbe and Goyle look like geniuses?"

"That'd be the one."

"Oh."

"You know, Hermione, I could always try to fashion some jewelry from the rock for you," Harry suggested.

"You'd do that for me?" Hermione smiled.

"Of course. It's not like the Nazgûl was trying to swear loyalty to it or anything… kinda," Harry guessed.

The bell rang. Lupin let out a sigh of relief.

"Class dismissed." Only Hermione stayed behind.

"Professor, can I talk to you in private?"

"Of course, Miss Granger," Lupin said, directing her towards his office. "Tea?"

"Yes, please." Lupin set about getting them both a cup of tea. "As you can probably tell, Harry's not the… er… brightest pea in the pod."

"I believe the phrase you're looking for, Ms. Granger, is 'completely bonkers'."

"Yes, well, despite his… unique view on life… Harry is my best friend. In fact, he's probably my only one. Blaise and I are barely acquaintances. Being my only friend, I feel rather protective of him at times."

"I fail to see where this is going, Miss Granger," Lupin said in confusion.

"I'll get to the point then. Professor Quirrell was possessed by Voldemort and tried to kill him, Professor Lockhart tried to wipe his and Ron's memories and put them in a mental institution, and the two of them were human. Well, mostly in Quirrell's case. You're a werewolf. I want to make sure you're not going to eat Harry. I'm father fond of him."

Lupin choked on his tea, and Hermione thought it looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"Ms. Granger… I have no intentions of eating Harry, or any of the students for that matter."

"Good, because if you tried to, they wouldn't be enough pieces of you for them to find," Hermione gave him a grin, grabbed her things, and headed for the door. "Thank you for the tea, professor."

Snape found him in his office a few minutes later, still staring at the door, slack-jawed. "What the hell is wrong with you Lupin?" he asked, setting Lupin's potion down in front of him.

Lupin let out a whine.

Snape looked at the clock and sighed. "Potter showed up for class today didn't he?"

Lupin nodded.

Snape patted him on the head. "Don't worry, you'll get used to him." Snape left the room, leaving a still stunned Remus Lupin behind.

"It's not him I'm worried about," Lupin whispered, shaking his head to snap him out of his daze.

{-16-}

Read and Review please! Smiles!

Rune/Steve2


	18. Chapter 17: Potter, is that a Bunny?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 3

Original chapter 9 by Rune, updates by Steve2

Rune: This is for X59, who wondered what Harry's boggart would look like. Makes more sense if you've seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail and The Chubbchubbs.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-17-}

"A what-fart?" Harry whispered to Blaise, who glared at him.

"A boggart, Potter, honestly," Blaise told him, resisting the urge to smack Harry upside the head.

"And what does it do?"

"Weren't you listening to Professor Lupin? It takes the form of your biggest fear," he tried (he knew it was in vain) to explain the magical concept to his fellow Slytherin.

"Oh." Must be some type of special effect he surmised. But then how did Lupin know their biggest fears to be able to set it up? Hmm… probably asked them all in one of the classes Harry skipped.

Harry didn't skip many classes, just the ones that bored him half to death. Like Defense did, most days.

But if Harry wasn't here when Lupin figured out what all their biggest fears were, then Lupin didn't know his, which meant he would have to make it look like he didn't want Harry to face the butt-fart thing.

"Boggart," Blaise said again, leading Harry to believe that Blaise could read his mind. Either that, or Blaise could just predict what he was thinking. Either way, Lupin was no doubt going to prevent Harry from facing the boggart. Harry, feeling oddly vindictive today, decided that was not going to happen.

"Dobby," he whispered. The house-elf popped into existence near him. Naturally, Dobby used magic to perform this little feat, but Harry passed it off as the little psycho Gollum-cousin stalking him. It came in handy now and then.

"What can Dobby do for the great Harry Potter?" Dobby whispered. He and Harry had had a nice long talk about being quiet when Harry called him with a whisper.

"Don't let Lupin keep me from facing the butt-fart thing," Harry told him.

"Boggart," Blaise corrected automatically.

"Yes sir, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby said, saluting him before disappearing. Blaise shook his head. Sometimes, being considered the best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived just wasn't worth the annoyance.

Several of the students managed to turn their greatest fears into something funny. Two fainted (Weasley facing a spider and Goyle facing a woman proctor with a test). One managed to laugh so hard he couldn't breathe and passed out (Longbottom facing Snape in Grand Dame Longbottom's dress, hat, and purse combo).

Finally, it came to be Harry's turn. Lupin tried to step between Harry and the boggart, only to find he was handcuffed to his desk. And if he wasn't mistaken, they were his own damn handcuffs!

The class roared with laughter as Harry's boggart turned, not into Voldemort, or a Dementor, but a bunny rabbit.

"Potter," Blaise said, disbelievingly, "is that a bunny? Your worst fear is a bunny?"

"That's not just a bunny, Blaise," Harry said, backing away from the bunny. "I always knew those Monty Python movies were real!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Blaise asked, stepping just a little closer to the bunny as Harry backed away further. Lupin barely had enough time to conjure up a brick wall in front of him as the bunny attacked. Not having enough time to conjure it properly, the brick wall was translucent. Blaise fell back as the bunny hit the wall right where his neck would have been. He got a good look at the razor sharp teeth that the bunny had.

"Potter! That could have been my neck!" he screamed.

"I told you it wasn't just a bunny!" Harry yelled back, attracting the bunny's attention. "It's a murderer! It bites people's heads off! Hey, no, don't come towards me!" Harry squeaked and ducked, letting the bunny sail over him.

"Ridikkulus, Potter, ridikkulus!" Blaise yelled. Normally, Harry would have brushed that off as nothing more than a word (magic spells weren't real – it only made the insane ones feel better, so he played along), but it worked for the others (Slytherin's included), so it was probably the password to activate the advanced special effects system that this room seemed to employ.

"Ridikkulus!" Harry said, waving his wand. Nothing happened. The bunny advanced. Harry heard a purring sound. Four chicks with pig noses appeared in front of him. The girls in the room 'aww'ed. Then all the chicks' eyes grew red and they opened their mouths, showing three sets of extremely sharp, rotating teeth. The chicks attacked the bunny, and tore it to pieces.

"Chubbchubbs!" Harry yelled, happily. "You guys are real too? Sweet!" A bloody rabbit's foot hit the wall where Blaise's face would have been. He whimpered. Several of the students fainted (Malfoy included), most of the remaining girls screamed before fainting as well, and the rest of the students ran screaming from the room. Lupin felt the urge to do the same, but he was still handcuffed to his desk, and the Chubbchubb things were now advancing on Harry.

"Harry!" Lupin yelled worriedly, only to see the Chubbchubbs purring and nuzzling Harry who was laughing and petting them. Fine, Harry was safe, now he had to concentrate on getting these damn handcuffs off. And figure out who handcuffed him to his desk with his own handcuffs in the first place.

Blaise stared at Harry petting the evil chicken things that he called Chubbchubbs and squeaked. The Chubbchubbs' turned their heads to him and hopped over, giving him the same treatment as Harry.

"Well, I guess you guys on too bad," Blaise said, petting them. The Chubbchubbs purred. Lupin felt the urge to growl at the handcuffs, only to see the key sitting innocently on his desk. Oh, when he found out who did this, he was so kicking their asses!

{-17-}

**Three Hours Later**

Dumbledore sighed. He had gotten numerous complaints from Poppy about the amount of patients that Lupin's third year Gryffindor/Slytherin class had, and from what he could glean from the woman's ranting, the problems were mostly mental.

"Enter," Dumbledore said. Remus Lupin entered, looking tired. "What happened?" Dumbledore asked, after Lupin sat down.

"I introduced the class to boggarts today," Lupin said. "I really meant to stop Harry before he could face the boggart, but… I didn't move fast enough." No sense in telling Dumbledore he had somehow gotten handcuffed to his desk. He still didn't know who did that. And he didn't want Dumbledore to know about his handcuffs.

"Ah, I see," Dumbledore said. "And Harry's boggart was Voldemort, I assume?"

"No," Lupin replied.

"No?" Dumbledore asked, astonished. "Then what was it?"

"An evil bunny," Lupin said, sounding like he couldn't believe it himself.

"An... evil bunny... caused most of your class to end up in the hospital wing with mental scaring?"

"No. The bunny only tried to bite Blaise Zabini and Harry's heads off. It was the evil chickens he fed the evil bunny to that caused most of my class to end up in the hospital wing with mental problems."

"Evil... chickens?" Albus inquired with raised eyebrows.

"Yes sir," Lupin said, feeling oddly like he was a student in trouble for some prank again. "They ate the evil bunny in front of the students. It was rather gory. Harry called them Chubbchubbs."

Lupin wasn't really all that surprised to see Dumbledore break down into sobs. According to the other teachers, stuff like this was normal for Harry. Lupin felt like crying himself, and he'd only had to deal with Harry for a few months. Dumbledore's had to deal with him for years. Poor old man.

{-17-}

Rune: Questions likely to be asked that I will answer now:

Q: Why does Lupin have handcuffs in the first place?  
A: Sirius probably gave them to him as a joke years ago when they were students and it was the height of comedy relief.

Q: Why didn't Lupin use magic to unlock the handcuffs?  
A: They're magical handcuffs, charmed against unlocking spells.

Q: How did Lupin get handcuffed to the desk?  
A: Dobby did it.

Read and Review please! Smiles!

Rune/Steve2


	19. Chapter 18: The Premonitions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 3

Original chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-18-}

"…And so it is with great digestive gusto, that Blaise will not pass his Transfiguration OWL because of food poisoning. Thank you!" Pansy Parkinson looked around the classroom, closed her "dream diary" and sat down.

"Thank you, my dear," Sybill Trelawney smiled at the young student who was definitely making progress in this class. "Okay, class, does anyone have anything else they'd like to bring up?"

"Ooh, ooh!" Harry shot his hand up.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Can you explain to me again how this is going to help us get a job in the future? I mean, sure, I know you can always be a psychic as a career choice, but how do you do it without phone lines or 800 numbers in this crazy place?"

"I'm sure you can always get your own 800 number once you graduate," Sybill supplied.

Harry nodded. "Sure. That is the easy part once you get a phone installed in this god-forsaken outback, but how do you charge their credit cards without them knowing? Isn't that the best way to make psychic calls?"

Sybill frowned. "Uh-oh. I just had a vision. I'm so sorry dear, but you're going to die by the Grim."

"The author?" Harry asked innocently.

Trelawney gave him a blank look.

Harry continued, "You know, the Brothers Grimm."

"No, as in a giant dog," Trelawney squinted at him.

"That's odd. I thought I was going to be mauled to death by a pack of dogs," Harry upped her comment.

"Oh right, it will be two Grims. I can see it clear as day."

"And I see three dogs in my future," Harry upped again.

"Four dogs," the students watched the back and forth predictions from teacher to student, amazed at the amount of magical sight each one had.

"Six dogs, and an orange cat," Harry countered.

"A kneazle?" Trelawney asked.

"You should cover your mouth when you sneeze. It's only polite that way. At least that's what I've heard."

"I didn't sneeze," Sybill pointed out.

"Sure you did. I heard you. After I said I was going to be mauled to death by 10 dogs, a couple cats, and a blind goat."

Sybill's eyes shot open which was a little weird with the big glasses she wore. "A goat? That's an omen if I've ever heard of one."

"I'll say. That was one spooky movie."

"What?" said Trelawney.

Harry grinned. "The Omen. Devil coming to life."

"You've seen the devil?"

"Sure. Wicked movie. Plus if not that, then my Aunt says I listen to devil music. Say, you know where I can score some batteries? My Walkman still isn't working. All the batteries I seem to buy are dead."

"You listen to the Devil?" Padma Patil inquired.

Harry looked at her. "Sure. 'Highway to Hell' is a great song! Maybe I should sing it next time we have to sing the school song. Wonder if I can get anyone to play instruments for me."

"You don't play instruments?" Sybill tried to get the conversation back to safe ground.

"Course not. Haven't had time to learn yet. You know any?"

"I play some mean Maracas," Trelawney volunteered.

"Wanna make a band? I can try to play some spoons."

"Hey, I'm not that kind of girl," Sybill insisted.

"You're a girl?" Harry was shocked.

"You can't tell?"

"In this insane asylum, it's kind of hard. I thought you might have been a guy playing the part of a girl. Who knew?"

"Word," Trelawney agreed.

{-18-}

I saw a comment on Rune's original story lamenting that the reader must have been psychic to know that she was going to quit the story after 14 chapters, which in turn sparked my idea for this chapter. Hope you liked it.

And now that Year 3 is coming to a close soon, I have an idea for an omake if someone wants to write it. How would Harry explain the Time-Turner that Hermione uses? Would there be a Back to the Future reference somehow? I leave it up to my readers to ponder this idea and write something if you want.

Read and Review please! Smiles!

Steve2


	20. Chapter 19: Slytherin Equals Sane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 3

Original chapter 2 by Rune, updates by Steve2

Rune: As I said before, this is going to be random one-shots. This is the scene where Harry meets Sirius in the Shrieking Shack... poor Sirius.

Steve2: the 2nd part of this chapter is new.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-19-}

Sirius stared.

Harry stared back.

Sirius blinked and continued staring.

Harry blinked and continued staring back.

"Harry…"

"Dude! I mean, INSANE PSYCHOPA-mmpphh!" Harry started yelling, but he was cut off by Sirius' hand over his mouth.

"Now, now, no need to do that," Sirius said, "It's not like I'm going to kill you or anything," then Sirius noticed the colors on Harry's Hogwarts tie, "You're a SLYTHERIN!" Sirius took his hand off of Harry's mouth in surprise. "Maybe I was too quick to say I wasn't going to kill you or anything…"

"And you're an insane psychopath… despite being a dude, or at least Dumbledore thinks so, but don't worry, you're not alone… this whole world is filled with psychopaths."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you a Slytherin?"

"Oh that… Slytherin equals sane."

"Huh?" Harry rolled his eyes and explained.

**Flashback**

Harry didn't know why he was following the insane asylum escapes and their minder but he was. His uncle probably paid them to take him. And by the way his uncle had been yelling, they apparently wanted a lot of money.

"And you get 'sorted' into 'houses' in this asylum?" Harry asked.

"It's not an asylum; it's a school!" McGonagall said, "And yes. There are four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Your parents were in Gryffindor."

"My parents went to this asylum?"

"It's not an asylum!" McGonagall yelled. Dumbledore was cheerfully sucking on a lemon drop, totally oblivious to the conversation (further fueling Harry's belief that he was an escapee from the insane asylum). Harry ignored McGonagall and turned to Snape.

"And what 'house' were you in, if any at all?"

"Slytherin," Snape replied, curtly. McGonagall regained Harry's attention and went on to tell him of famous people who came out of Hogwarts and what house they were in, and about the four Founders that the houses were named for. Harry's interpretations of her words were a bit less than what she would have liked.

"I get it," Harry said, making McGonagall think that he finally dropped the asylum thing. "Different people get sorted into these 'houses' based on whether they're sane or not." (McGonagall's eye twitched) "Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw equal insane; that's where all the nuts go." (The twitching got worse) "Slytherin equals sane; that's where all the minders come from. Slytherin is definitely where I want to go." The three of them turned around as they heard a strange sound.

Dumbledore was pounding on his chest, having choked on his lemon drop after hearing Harry's last sentence.

**End Flashback**

"So you see…Slytherin equals sane."

Sirius fainted. Lupin entered the room, took in the fact that Sirius was on the floor with Harry standing over him, and raised an eyebrow.

"Um…" Harry had the deer in the headlights look on his face, "I didn't do it."

"Didn't do what?" Lupin asked.

"I don't know," Harry admitted, sheepishly, "But whatever it is, I didn't do it."

{-19-}

For some reason, Harry's godfather was as insane as the rest of the people in his life these days. He actually thought a small rat was his avenue to freedom from the chain gang. Who was Harry to argue since he'd seen a lot weirder in his three years at the asylum.

So it was that Harry, Sirius and Professor Lupin were carrying a rat in a cage out of the tunnel when what should happen but Lupin falls down on the ground and starts to have an epileptic fit or something. Harry knew that was bad, but worse was when the cage he was carrying dropped and the rat got free.

Harry had to catch it! Who knew what kind of disease it was carrying if Sirius hadn't gotten it from one of the scientists, wherever they were. Harry ran, but the rat ran faster on its stubby legs, and Harry finally gave up as the rat made its way to the forest.

Harry came back to help Professor Lupin but no longer saw him or his godfather. Hmmm, he must have taken him to the school nurse or something.

Instead, he saw a dog and a big-ass dog on the lawn. "Great – someone let their strays loose. Well, time to earn my keep. C'mere, boy, come on, that's it. I have a nice bone for you. What? You don't like bones? You want a juicy professor instead? Ha-ha, just kidding. Let's get you that steak."

Harry rolled up a few parchments into a tight bunch and whapped the big-ass dog on the snout. "Bad dog! Don't make me whap you again. Sit! I said, **_sit!_** Good dog. Come on, both of you. Let's get you something to eat from the Great Hall. It's not like the head insane patient will mind. He's insane by the way." Whap! "No biting! Down, boy! Good boy! That's a good doggie. If you keep this up, I might have to introduce you to Ripper."

Harry opened the castle doors and then entered the Great Hall.

"Hey, anyone have a leash? Or some steak? I think this dog is hungry. Sit! Now lay down. Shake your paw? C'mon, give me that paw."

"That's a werewolf, Potter!" someone shouted. Well, quite a few several someones as it turned out.

"No, it's a big-ass dog! Geez, take your meds and calm down why don't you? You're exciting the rest of the patients! Uh-oh, I don't think this dog is housebroken yet. Anyone got a towel? Or a mop?"

{-19-}

Rune: This was inspired by my brother's "Whatever It Is, I Didn't Do It" t-shirt. I want a shirt like that… that and the "Curiosity Killed The Cat, But For A While I Was The Suspect" shirt.

Steve2: This last part was inspired by a comment I saw in the reviews about taking Lupin into the Great Hall as a werewolf. Hope you like it.

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Rune/Steve2


	21. Chapter 20: Staying with Sirius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 3

Original chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

Note: I have to apologize for a word mentioned at the bottom of this story. I am in America and the word is not a bad word here, but it may be considered so by someone else. If that is the case, please let me know and I will return to this chapter and modify it. I mean no disrespect, and I thought at the time it was funny and would go well with this story. Again, if you have a problem with that word (and it starts with "Bug...") then please send me a message.

{-20-}

It was late at night. The second to last night of the school year. In a couple days, Harry would be heading home. Back to the… Dursleys. With that last thought in his head, Harry popped up out of the secret tunnel that led to a run-down shack and met his godfather.

"Sirius, so there you are! Glad you're doing better," Harry greeted.

"Thanks, kiddo. I know you're beating yourself up about that rat escaping," Sirius started.

"Uh, yeah. Sure," Harry agreed.

"…but don't worry about it. We'll catch him sooner or later. It's just a matter of time," he said with some finality.

"Uh, yeah. Sure," Harry didn't know what else to say. Then, "Say, where are you going now? I can't sneak food here over the summer as I'm heading home in a few days. We need to get you somewhere safe that you won't be put back into jail."

"You know, kiddo, I've been thinking about that for the last few days. I could go back to Black manor, but I hate the place. Plus, it's a dump."

"If it's that bad, then you have to stay away from it. It would only drive you more nuts."

"I guess I could see if Dumbledore would put me up here at the school over the summer," Sirius commented.

"No! I mean that wouldn't be a good idea with no company around," Harry prompted. There was no way he was going to subject his godfather to any more of this madness.

"Hmmm, maybe I could stay with Remus in his summer hovel," Sirius thought.

"I know!" Harry had an insight. "How about you staying with the Dursleys for the summer! They'd love company. Especially insane ones. Believe me, I know," Harry grinned evilly.

{-20-}

Knock-knock. Pause. Knock-knock. Pause. Bam! Bam! Bam!

Petunia Dursley made her way to the front door and opened it, seeing a scruffy looking vagrant on her porch. That just wouldn't do! "I'm not interested and don't have any spare change. Go stand on a corner like the rest of your kind," she demanded.

"Petunia Dursley?" the man cocked his head sideways to make sure he got a picture of all of her.

"Yes? Do I know you?" she said with some dread.

The scruffy man smiled and replied, "Hi, I'm Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, and an escaped murderer. You probably saw my wanted posters around town. You mind if I stay here for a while?"

"Uuhhhhh…." Petunia's eyes shot open.

"Great! I'll park myself in your room. You can take the couch. The fat man can take the floor with this sleeping bag. By the way, Harry considers me insane."

"Uuhhhhh…." Petunia started.

"That's probably true considering where I've been the last 10 years. Hmmm, we'll need to think of a cover story for me now living with you."

"Uuhhhhh…." Petunia continued.

"I know! You can call me by my nickname, Bugger, and say that I'm your younger, cooler brother that just got out of the Foreign Legion. How's that?" Sirius smiled at the upcoming summer.

"Uuhhhhh…." Petunia kept continuing.

"Great!" replied Bugger, entering the house. "Where's the fellyvision? Harry gave me a list of things he wants recorded. You can also call me the black sheep of the family – get it? I made a funny! You got any whisky?"

"Uuhhhhh…." Petunia concluded. Then, "Vernon!" And again, a little louder, "Vernon!"

{-20-}

Note: I'll give a special call out to the first reviewer who can tell me where I got Sirius' nickname – name the author and/or story! Hint: it's one of my favorites.

Well campers, this is the end of Year 3. Next comes Year 4 and more zaniness. Hope you are all enjoying the ride.

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2

**END OF YEAR 3**


	22. Chapter 21: Mr. Potter, What Are You Doing? Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 4

Original chapter 7 by Rune, updates by Steve2

This starts the coverage of the TriWizard Tournament.

A special shout out to andrewjeeves for correctly identifying Sirius’ nickname in the last chapter as coming from the story Multiverse written by the prolific writing duo of Bobmin356.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-21-}

Harry sat at the Slytherin table reading a book. It was an interesting book; certainly more interesting than what he normally found in the library. Well, probably not any library – just the library that was at his school. You see, he had found a book on how to write a screenplay at the library close to where he lived and had used Dudley’s brand new, still-laminated library card that the obese boy had gotten years ago and never broke in. Sadly, since he was still in Scotland for the foreseeable future, all the late fees would have to be paid for by the Dursleys.

“Hey, Potter,” Malfoy tried to goad him into something. Harry was never sure what he was trying to goad him into.

“Whatcha need, Malfoy?” Harry didn’t look up.

“They’ve arrived. Krum’s here,” the blonde said excitedly.

“Uh-huh,” Harry agreed, as he jotted a note in the margin about setting up a scene.

“And there’s some good looking French girls here as well,” Malfoy pointed out.

“Uh-huh,” Harry agreed again, not listening.

“Potter! Aren’t you listening to me? They’re here!”

Knowing he was not going to be able to concentrate on his book until he looked at what the blonde was yammering on about, Harry looked up. His mouth fell open as he noticed all the new arrivals.

Malfoy smirked. “Durmstrang and Beauxbatons.”

Harry looked at him. “What does that mean? Is it German for new inmates transferring in?”

“No, you moron! They are students from other schools.”

“And they’re coming here why?” Harry said with honest sincerity.

Malfoy’s mouth opened and closed a few times.

Harry turned to Blaise and arched an eyebrow in question.

“They’re temporary inmates transferring in. Won’t be here long,” Blaise said.

“Ah.” Harry went back to his reading.

{-21-}

Directly After the Cup Spits Out Harry’s Name

“Harry Potter!” Dumbledore yelled.

“Hmm?” Harry looked up from the newspaper in front of him. Dumbledore held a tiny piece of paper and was looking at him strangely.

“Dude, your name just came out of the cup,” Blaise whispered in his ear.

“Cup, what cup?” Harry asked, looking around, and even tipping the cup in front of him to see if his name was on it somehow. Everyone but the Slytherins and the regular Hogwarts teachers (having had three years to get used to him) face-faulted.

“Potter, your name came out of the cup!” Fudge exclaimed after recovering, “Hey! Are you listening…? Mr. Potter, what are you doing?”

“Crossword,” Harry said, before turning to Blaise. “What’s a ten-letter word for ‘excessive love or admiration of one’s self’?”

“How the bloody hell should I know?” Blaise asked.

“Anyone?” Harry called.

“Narcissism,” one of the Beauxbatons students answered.

“Really? Hey, it fits! Thanks! Hmm, you know that kind of sounds like ‘Narcissa.’ Isn’t that interesting, Draco?”

{-21-}

Steve2 Note: this is the first part of the original Chapter 7 section broken out to its own chapter. There are, as you may guess, 3 more “chapter 7” updated chapters to read. There are also more chapters around this year as well. Hope you enjoyed it.

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Rune/Steve2


	23. Chapter 22: What to do this year?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 4

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-22-}

Hermione had done it. Finally. It had only taken her three years, going on four, but she had finally done it. She had managed to drag Harry Potter to his second DADA class in a row!

Harry sat next to Blaise who smirked as he saw Hermione’s hand push Harry back down in his seat when he got up to bolt for the door. “I should know better than to call her bluffs,” Harry groused to his friend.

“That you should,” Blaise grinned back.

“How was I to know she had a full house? I thought I had it in the bag.”

“Shhh, both of you,” Hermione commanded. “Professor Moody is here.”

“Alright, you lot, shut it and listen up! Today we are going to practice the unforgiveables on these spiders,” he announced.

“He’s playing with his pet spiders in class? What a loon,” Harry commented to Blaise.

“Shhh, both of you,” Hermione prompted. “I want to hear this.”

{-22-}

“Imperio! Now, Potter, jump on that desk,” ordered Professor Moody.

Harry looked around. “Which desk?”

“That desk! Over here!”

“The desk next to you or the one by the window?”

“I don’t care! Just jump on it!”

“And by ‘it’, you mean the desk… right?”

“Yes!”

“Has the desk done anything to me to prompt me wanting to jump on it?”

“Huh?”

“You know, has it put itself in my way? Is it an evil table?”

“Evil table?” Moody said, looking at Potter.

“Yeah! Evil table,” Harry responded excitedly.

“How do you tell if it is an evil table?” Sue Bones wanted to know.

“Easy. It has a goatee,” Harry said in a sure voice.

“A table with a goatee?” Professor Moody wanted to make sure he heard that right.

“Right. So is it an evil table I have to jump on?”

“Sit down Potter. Just… sit down.”

“Fine. Try to humor a crazy old timer and this is what you get,” Hermione heard Harry mutter.

{-22-}

“Hello Harry,” smirked a woman at the press conference. “I’m Rita Skeeter; writer for the Daily Prophet. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”

“Sure, I do… hey, how are you keeping that quill in the air? Hey Cedric, Victor – see that? She has a floating quill! So, Ms. Creeper…”

“Skeeter,” she corrected.

“That’s what I said. How do you keep that quill up there as you walk around? Is it magnets? I bet it’s magnets.”

Harry reached up to touch the quill and immediately it fell to the ground.

“My quill!” Rita screeched, reaching down for her now defunct quill. “I don’t understand; I just bought this dict-a-quill…” she started.

“I’d get a refund if I were you. Or just go to the bird house at the top of the castle and get yourself another feather. They are all over the place here,” Harry tried to help her out. Unfortunately he stepped on her foot with his heavy boots, breaking a toe when he went to help pick up the quill off the ground.

“Ouch! Oh dear,” Rita started.

“Sorry about stepping on your foot there, lady. But if I were you and in need of medical attention, you might want to seek it at a hospital instead of here.”

“And why, urk,” (the pain hit), “wouldn’t I want to stay here for my foot?” She hobbled over to a chair and sat down in it heavily.

“Are you kidding? This place is an insane asylum.”

“All kids say that about their school,” her cameraman pointed out.

“True, but in this case, this place is an actual insane asylum.”

Despite the increasing pain, Rita was hooked. “If it is so bad here, Mr. Potter, why are you here?”

“Oh, I’m here to learn a new trade. That should make my uncle happy once he finds out that I’m prepping for a job once school is over.”

“And what job would that be?” Rita asked.

“Inmate minder,” Harry smiled.

{-22-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	24. Chapter 23: Mr. Potter, What Are You Doing? Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 4

Original chapter 7 by Rune, updates by Steve2

Steve2: This continues coverage of the TriWizard Tournament.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-23-}

“It’s dragons, Potter!” Professor Moody told Harry once they were alone in the corridor.

“You don’t say. Suuuuure, they are. Let me guess, it breathes fire, right?” Harry humored the poor man.

“Of course, Potter!” Moody agreed.

“Suuuuure it does. You know, you sure do look like you’ve seen your fair share of dragons, right?”

“What?” That caught him by surprise.

“You know, missing a leg, having to rely on your bionic eye like Steve Austin.”

“Who?”

“The bionic man! Jeez, aren’t you paying attention. Oh right, you’re all worked up about dragons…”

“Hwah? No, wait! Listen up, boy! You’ll need to retrieve something in the dragon’s clutch,” Moody instructed.

“It’ll be holding it then?” Harry looked at the scarred man in his one good eye.

“What?”

“You know, clutching something?” Harry grasped one hand in another, trying to show his point.

Moody sighed. “No! Its clutch. Its eggs!”

“You know, you could have just said that and saved us all this confusion.”

“Okay. So you understand? You’ll have to retrieve a golden egg from the other eggs! Got it?!”

“Sure. Retrieve an egg from other eggs. Got it. Say, can I bring a carton of eggs with me and trade one egg for another?”

Mad-eye Moody grumbled and ground out, “Just… I wou… Listen, your best bet is to play to your strengths.”

“Oh, is that all? That’ll be easy then! Thanks, Professor whack-job!”

{-23-}

**First Task**

“And our fourth champion - Harry Potter!” the announcer called. Harry came out (shirtless, much to the happiness of his fangirls and his more attractive minions) with a lawn chair and a large mirror that he had borrowed from Pansy Parkinson.

Harry set the lawn chair on the grass, just inside the arena, sat in the chair, and held the mirror out in front of him.

“Uh,” the announcer said, “Mr. Potter, what are you doing?”

“Sunbathing,” Harry answered, before turning to the dragon and yelling, “Oi! You! Lizard-breath! You’re in my sun – move it!”

“And he calls us insane?” Ginny asked of no one in particular.

A few seats over, Remus Lupin was banging his head against a book muttering, “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” with every bang. Occasionally, an “He’s gonna die, he’s gonna die,” was added in as well.

“Has Mr. Potter stared believing in magic yet?” McGonagall asked Blaise.

“Nope.”

“And how does he explain the dragon?”

“Iguana on steroids.”

Dumbledore choked on another lemon drop.

{-23-}

“I thought he was going to play this to his strength…” Mad-eye mumbled just loud enough to be overheard by Professor Snape.

The dour potions professor didn’t bother looking at the defense instructor as he said, “He is.” He then noticed that Harry angled the mirror just right to get some rays on his chest while also blinding the dragon that had thought to charge the young Slytherin, making it drop to the ground as it whimpered to get the spots out of its eyes.

Mad-eye face-faulted.

{-23-}

Another Chapter 7 original section broken out to its own chapter. Hope you enjoyed it.

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Rune/Steve2


	25. Chapter 24: Harry and Lya Go On A Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 4

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-24-}

“So, young Harry,” Fred started.

“Who are you going to take the ball?” continued George.

“You do realize you have to take someone, don’t you?” Blaise put in, obviously enjoying this.

Harry gave them a ‘look’. “Yes,” Harry groused. “Snape told me I had to attend with a date since I’m a so-called champion.”

“So which one has caught you eye?” Blaise asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied truthfully. He then looked at the two brothers and Blaise and commented, “You do realize that all the girls in school are insane don’t you?”

Fred and George nodded at that.

“You got that right,” George said.

“Especially when it is their time of the month if you know what I mean,” Fred concluded.

{-24-}

Harry thought about Blaise’s words from earlier in the day. Great, he was going to have to get a date to take to a stupid party. What did Blaise say – who would I want to go with?

Hmmm, who would I want to go with to this party? Farrah Fawcett? Nah, too old. Holly Robinson? She’s a cutie… Hmmm, think, Harry, think. If it could be anyone, who would it be?

How about Lya?

Yeah! She’s smart, and could even put up with this nuthouse I’m sure.

But how would you go about getting her for a date? Hmmm, Harry started wondering. And for some reason, his thoughts raced to the following on how to go about asking Lya out:

{-24-}

The Date As Harry Wished

“Hello Harry. Nice day, isn’t it?” Lya said looking to the sky.

At least she wasn’t talking about the stars, Harry hid his thoughts. “Hello Lya. It is a nice day. You’re looking well. How’s the old man?”

“He is well. Did you need some assistance against the Goul’d?”

“Not really,” Harry started.

“Oh, too bad. I was hoping we could assist one another on a matter most important. Well, have a good day.”

“Did I say ‘Not really’? I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, Lya. I meant, really it’s a matter of grave importance. You see there is a dance coming up at the local high school where I’m attending and it appears a system lord has heard that I plan to go there. Now normally I would take an airman but you have a certain rustic beauty about you, and you can pretty much scan the minds of hidden Goul’ds at the party, so I was hoping you’d like to be my date.”

“Hidden Goul’d impersonating children? How beastly.”

“You said it,” Harry agreed.

“Of course I will help you.”

And so the night of the big dance came and Harry’s date showed up through the stargate without announcing herself, only to find a lot of weapons pointed her way.

“Oh, you scamps,” she smiled, walking down the ramp and putting flowers in the barrels of all the automatic weapons pointed her way.

“Stand down!” commanded the voice of none other than Colonel O’Neill. “Lya, it’s good to see you.”

“You too, Colonel O’Neill”

“So… what’s up?

“I am here to help young Harry root out Goul’d infiltrators at a school dance.”

“Really? I’ll have to review my briefing on that. Oh, Harry!” O’Neill barked into a nearby radio.

“Yo!”

“Your date is here!”

“Wow, she’s early. You can tell she’s not of this world just by that!”

“Hey!” yelped one of the random guards in the gate room who just happened to be a woman.

“I’ll be right there,” Harry signed off.

“So, Lya…” O’Neill started. “Nice twigs.”

Lya removed a couple twigs and a leaf from her hair. “Thanks. Early mulch period.”

Soon enough the two lovebir… er… anti-Goul’d specialists were on their way out of the mountain in Daniel’s car.

“Hungry, Lya?”

“One must never pass up the chance for free food, so say the ancient scriptures,” she replied, untangling another knot in her hair.

“That sounds like a yes to me,” Harry pulled into a nearby fast food emporium.

“You do realize I cannot eat living things,” she reminded him.

“Not to worry. Most of the stuff they have here isn’t real food anyway. It’s just chemicals. But better safe than sorry in any event. Let’s get some cheese sticks.”

“What are they?”

“Ah-ah, don’t want to ruin the surprise. Trust me, you’ll like them.”

And all too soon, they were seated across from one another with a tray of steaming hot melty cheesy goodness in front of them.

“Try one. No animals were harmed in making this, I promise.”

“Just one,” she agreed. She tried it. “By the ancients! This is much better than the salads I eat every day! More!”

About 30 minutes later, and 7 more helpings down, she was full.

“Harry, that was just simply delicious. Now we had better get to that dance and root out the infiltrators.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right about that. Say, do you have anything to cover up the blemish that just popped up on your cheek?”

“What blemish?” she reached up to touch the spot. A concerned look came over her face. “Oh no,” she squeaked, darting for the woman’s restroom.

All too soon, “Aaaaaaaeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiii-bwah-hah-hah-hahhhhhh!”

Lya came back and sat across from Harry. “‘Sup, gorgeous?”

“My life is over. I’m diseased!” Sob, sob.

“How’s it over?”

“I’m marked. See?” and she pointed to the blemish.

Harry did see. He saw it for a full minute. Then, “It’s a zit.”

“You don’t understand. Over half the Nox thousands of years ago were similarly affected. We needed to abandon them on a planet to save our race from further contamination. Now that I’m afflicted, it is only a matter of time before I too am cast out.”

“Lya, I’m going to introduce you to something that the inhabitants of this planet discovered years ago. It’s a little thing called… soap. It works far better than rubbing dirt into your pours.”

“Sacrilegious!”

“C’mon, babe, I’m totally serious here. You’ll love it.”

“Excuse me,” interrupted one of a pair of girls at the quasi-table next to them. “But he’s right. You’re a naturalist, aren’t you? No need to let me know. I know all about the green movement. No soap, no sin, no fun, no nothing. Been there…”

“…done that,” inserted the other girl of about an equal age of 15.

“But you don’t have to live like you’re Grizzly Adams…”

Lya looked at them blankly.

“You know, the TV star from before we were born. He would have been popular when you were a girl. Oh, you poor girl, you’ve been living the mountain life for that long?”

“Well, not really a mountain. My father has me out in a valley along with my brother.”

“Don’t worry, honey, we’ve got some Clearasil with us. We’ll get you fixed right up.”

“You babes are all right,” Harry smiled, not really remembering which class he had with them, but glad they remembered him.

“Well, we’ve got to do right by our fellow students, Harry. Besides, looks like you’re trying to get your aunt out of a bad situation and reintroduce her to proper life. C’mon, back to the bathroom.”

Roughly 15 minutes later…

“Sorry, miss, but that seat is saved for a friend of mine.”

“Harry, it’s me. Lya.”

“Lya? Damn, girl, but you clean up good!”

“Thanks. I think.”

“Trust me, it’s a compliment. I think. How do you feel?”

“Wonderful. I can’t believe how much better I feel with a clean face.”

“Brings out the natural looker in you,” Harry agreed.

“Makes me feel terrible about all the Nox we abandoned millennia ago. You don’t by chance have a time machine do you?”

“Not really. But I do know someone worked on one. That could start us on our way.”

{-24-}

Harry popped out of his wishful thoughts. It was a fun wish to think of Lya, but she wasn’t the one for him. For one thing, he’d doubt the insane guy running the place would let him contact her. For another, he didn’t know where she was – or how to get in touch with her Hollywood agent.

But that wasn’t important. It was the idea of someone like Lya that he was looking for: someone fun to be around. Harry looked around the cafeteria hall.

Sure, there were his minions, but they would most likely giggle all night long. And then there was the problem of asking which one without the rest becoming jealous. So many problems with having minions.

Harry then saw someone at a nearby table. She had blonde hair and was sitting alone. And for some reason, she reminded him of Lya. She wasn’t a minion; that was for sure. She didn’t have on a Potter for President t-shirt today. Maybe he should get to know her a little more.

He made his way over to her table.

{-24-}

Steve2: This was another omake I wrote for an HP/SG1 story that I thought worked well here. No more SG1 omakes, I promise! Anyone care to guess who I’m talking about here at the end of the chapter?

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	26. Chapter 25: That Old Yule Tide Ball Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 4

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-25-}

The night of the Yule Ball was a special night. All the young people dressed up to eat fancy food and dance to a night’s music. Yes, it had turned out to be a good idea to bring the Tri-Wizard tournament out of slumber, Dumbledore thought. The crowd was waiting to enter the Hall, the other headmasters waiting with their delegations. All they were waiting for now was the last of the champions to arrive with their date.

There was young Cedric with his date from Ravenclaw if Albus wasn’t mistaken. There was the Beauxbatons champion, Fleur, and her date, also from Hogwarts. And the Durmstrang student was escorting young Miss Granger. Now where was… ah, there he is. Mr. Potter was bringing as his date a young lady wearing… wearing… what was that thing on her head?

“Hello, Harry,” Cedric grinned at the fellow champion.

“Cedric,” Harry cordially replied as he helped keep the accompaniment on his date’s head.

“Who is your date?” Cedric tried to keep his voice from chuckling at Harry’s frantic efforts.

“Luna,” Cho answered for the group. “Luna Lovegood.”

“Hello, Cedric,” Luna smiled at the champion. “Hello, tramp,” she smiled sweetly at Cho.

“That hat you vear,” Victor Krum started, pointing at the hat on Luna’s head.

“You like it? It’s my Vulture hat.”

“It is very becoming,” Victor pointed out. “My grandmother had one like it.”

Luna smiled and nodded. “It is very retro, I know. But I think it is going to make a comeback to the height of fashion.”

“It certainly makes her stand out,” Harry grumbled, still playing with the hat.

“Vat do you wear, Harry?” Victor inquired.

“Don’t mind Harry,” Luna smiled at the international seeker. “I know what you are thinking – that Harry is wearing black robes over some sweat clothes. But it was a compromise on his part in order to attend the ball in the first place.”

“I wanted comfort,” Harry finally got the hat to stay in one place.

“And I wanted a hat,” Luna said simply.

Then both Harry and Luna said in unison, “And we both had to dress up. This is what you get.”

“I thought you would have taken one of your minions,” Roger commented.

“I had thought of that,” Harry returned. “I had to hold a meeting with them to tell them I was taking Luna to the ball. They weren’t happy with that, but I did agree to dance with all of my minions tonight. Well, at least the girl minions.”

“Colin wasn’t happy with that I hear,” Hermione smirked.

“Don’t go there,” Harry smirked back.

{-25-}

As the champions and their dates ate dinner, it was inevitable that the topic of the first task would come up.

“Harry, help me to understand,” Victor started with a piece of chicken on his fork. “Vhat vere you doink vith the dragon?”

Harry looked at him and arched an eyebrow. Realization struck. “Oh, that’s right. You’re just temporarily here. It wasn’t a dragon. Don’t let its size intimidate you. Some scientists in this facility are going gang busters on genetic mutations. I try to ignore them as best I can. So should you.”

Fleur was flummoxed. “But, what about your magic, ‘Arry? You must compete or lose it,” she pointed out the obvious.

Harry grinned and shook his head negatively. “Magic. Right. As far as I’m concerned, all I have to do is show up and that’s competing enough. That ought to be enough for the head inmate.”

Little did Harry know that some adults were listening in to the conversation the champions were having at their table.

“Blast it, Dumbledore,” Crouch hissed at the older man. “How did he find that loophole?”

Dumbledore stroked his beard, contemplating what he had just heard. “He is gifted in finding his way around the laws of magic, that’s for certain. It comes naturally to him.”

“We need to find a way to get him to compete,” Crouch thought aloud.

“I will work on it for the next task,” Albus replied.

“You got him the egg after the first task?” Albus nodded that he had. “What was his reaction to it?”

“He said he was going to hock it, whatever that means.”

“He needs to find out about the clue,” implored Crouch.

“He will. I have no doubt about that,” Dumbledore continued to stroke his beard.

{-25-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	27. Chapter 26: Mr. Potter, What Are You Doing? Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 4

Original chapter 7 by Rune, updates by Steve2

Steve2: This continues coverage of the TriWizard Tournament.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-26-}

“Potter!”

Harry sighed as the scarred inmate/teacher approached him.

“Can we help you, Professor Moody?” Hermione said as she too looked at the old ex-Auror.

“Sure thing, lass. Has Potter figured out the clue to the second task yet?”

“Sure thing,” Harry replied happily. “I thought for sure we were going to short out the speaker when Cedric told me to dunk it in the water, but it must be one of the underwater cassette players I’ve heard so much about.”

Moody looked questioningly at Miss Granger, who in turn just shook her head and motioned for him to continue.

“Uh… right. Well, anyway, since you have to retrieve something from the bottom of the lake, have you figured out how you are going to do it?”

“I have some idea,” Harry said vaguely.

“Uh… right. Well, have you thought of taking gillyweed? It should help you…”

“You’re trying to give me weed?” Harry cut the man off. “Man, that is just so not cool! And you’re a professor too! I should report you to the authorities!” Harry stormed off, Hermione quick on his steps.

{-26-}

**Second Task**

“Mr. Potter, what are you doing in here?” Poppy Pomfrey asked. He was sitting on a bed in the med-tent, with a newspaper in front of him.

“Crossword. Five letter word – “Blank” up - meaning to screw something up.”

“Fudge,” Pomfrey answered.

“Yes?” Cornelius Fudge asked, hearing his name. Harry blinked.

“That’s... disturbing, actually.”

“Mr. Potter!” Fudge exclaimed, having just noticed him, “What are you doing?”

“Crossword.”

“Aren’t you going to save your treasure?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Blaise can swim better than I can.”

“Oh.”

“Eleven letter word, beginning with a ‘d’ that means group of idiots or morons?”

Before anyone could answer Snape was heard outside the tent, yelling (no doubt at a group of Gryffindors), “You DUNDERHEADS!”

“Never mind,” Harry said, cheerfully.

{-26-}

Blaise shivered a bit under the warming blanket around his shoulders.

He looked at Harry, who was still on his crossword. “You didn’t rescue me,” he said simply.

“Nope,” Harry agreed.

“Why?”

“Are you kidding? People going swimming in an unheated lake during winter in Scotland is what happened. How many ways can you spell hypothermia?”

Blaise couldn’t fault his friend. He would be the same way. Still… “You know, I’m still wondering how I got tapped into being made a hostage for you to rescue. Surely there is something against this sort of thing at the ministry of Magic,” he muttered.

“The ministry of magic?” Harry made sure he understood what Blaise said correctly. “The crazies have their own entire government of crazies? Well it’s no wonder Fudge is a moron. He’s crazy too.”

{-26-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Rune/Steve2


	28. Chapter 27: The Girl Who Believes in Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 4

Original chapter 11 by Rune, updates by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-27-}

Harry was sitting at the Ravenclaw table, chatting happily with his blonde girl friend, Luna, with a subdued Hermione and an amused Blaise sitting not far from them.

“It’s impossible,” Hermione whispered. It wasn’t that Harry was talking to someone outside his house (he had proven he’d do that with her), but that he was talking with Luna Lovegood, and nodding in agreement at whatever it was she was saying.

“Obviously not,” Blaise said.

“But he’s the Boy-Who-Doesn’t-Believe-In-Magic,” Hermione hissed frightfully. That was his new title since Rita Skeeter got wind of him not believing in magic. “And,” Hermione continued, “she’s the Girl-Who-Believes-In-Everything!” That would be Luna’s title if Rita Skeeter ever met her.

“And they shouldn’t even get along,” Blaise said, “but there they are.”

“Of all the people in Ravenclaw, he thinks she’s sane? How did this even start?”

“Well, you know how Potter’s into all that conspiracy crap?”

“Yeah,” Hermione queried.

“Apparently, so is she.”

**Flashback**

“Heliopaths,” the blonde girl said. Harry looked at her strangely.

“Whatio-paths?”

“Heliopaths. They’re what the Ministry is planning to use to destroy all the goblins in Gringotts. They spit fireballs.”

Now, while to any other person this would have sounded like an insane bit of rubbish, somehow Harry’s brain translated it into this: ‘The Ministry plans to do in the Oompa Loompa Wannabe’s with those freaky genetic experiments gone wrong that Hagrid had called firecrabs. Hagrid had a lot of those genetic experiments as it turned out – he must have had a connection to the scientists or something!’

“So it is a conspiracy!” Harry exclaimed.

“I would say so,” Luna agreed.

“Of course,” Harry was on a roll. “It all makes sense. Centaurs? Giant spiders called Acromantulas? A giant freshwater squid! More experiments! This is a conspiracy to end all conspiracies!”

“We need to alert the world,” Luna suggested.

“I guess I can let Mulder and Scully know about this,” Harry surmised.

**End Flashback**

“Okay, but still, there’s no way just conspiracy theories would keep him from thinking she’s insane.”

“Apparently, they have a friend in common.”

“Who?”

“Bob.”

“Bob? Who’s Bob?”

“I don’t know. They described him as having brown hair and wearing a hardhat, whatever that is, and they talked to thin air while addressing him, so I assume he is their imaginary friend.”

“Only Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood would have Bob the Builder as an imaginary friend.”

{-27-}

Rune: Short but funny, at least to me. Not nearly as good as the Chubbchubbs, but that’s because Inspiration hit, and then vanished into thin air for this one. I got the idea to get Harry to meet Luna right before Amileah suggested it.

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Rune/Steve2


	29. Chapter 28: Mr. Potter, What Are You Doing? Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 4

Original chapter 7 by Rune, updates by Steve2

Steve2: This concludes coverage of the TriWizard Tournament.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-28-}

Harry got himself ready. It was the final task. So much to do, so little time.

He walked out to the pitch with the other contestants. Those poor, deluded fools thinking this contest would make them famous. Possibly, he guessed. If someone were to write about the fantasies the population of this school seemed to be interested in.

Harry looked around. So far he hadn’t been corned and advised of what to do, or given special incentives or anything like that, and didn’t want to jinx his luck going forward.

{-28-}

**Third Task**

For the third task, the lawn chair was back, but this time he had a book.

“Mr. Potter,” Fudge hissed through his teeth, “What are you doing? No, wait; let me guess - a crossword?”

“Nope - word search!”

Fudge face-faulted.

{-28-}

The stands were packed as they heard what was sure to be an epic something or other going on behind the hedges. Nothing to see, Harry went back to his word search and found Tomfoolery on a diagonal. It fit.

Soon enough the crowd was cheering as Cedric rushed out of the maze with a trophy in his hands. Moments later the other contestants made their way out as well. Harry smiled. Not that Cedric had won, or that his school had achieved the victory, but that finally the stupid contest was over.

As the student body came down to the pitch and surrounded their winner, hoisting him on their shoulders and saying whatever to anyone who would listen, which weren’t that many since everyone was talking and no one was listening, Harry got up from the chair and folded it back down.

At that point Professor Moody joined him. “Hey, Professor Whack-job. ‘Sup?”

“Nice performance, Potter. Didn’t let anything the Headmaster wanted you to do influence your strategy. Good for yeh,” he garbled out some pleasantries.

“Thanks. I’m headed for my room. Later.”

“Just a moment, Potter. In case you hadn’t heard, you did win a prize for coming in last place.”

“A loser trophy? No thanks.”

“You wouldn’t want to hurt an old man’s feelings for not taking it, would you?” Professor Moody pushed forward a small trophy cup with what Harry could see was “Riddle” written on it. Strangely enough, he was holding it by the base and was also wearing gloves. I guess he didn’t want to finger it up, Harry thought.

“Why don’t you give it to one of the other contestants? Maybe the girl. She seemed pretty steamed when she came out of the maze.”

“No! I mean, it’s for you after all. You came in dead last. And I do mean, dead last.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.” Harry turned to leave.

“Dammit!” Harry heard, then must have passed out.

He woke a few moments later (he hoped). Professor Whack-job must’ve hit him over the head with that trophy and dragged him to a graveyard. Maybe the old man was going to bury him alive? Wow, that old geezer must’ve really taken that competition seriously. Harry got up and went to investigate the graveyard.

{-28-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Rune/Steve2


	30. Chapter 29: Two different Whack Jobs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 4

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-29-}

Harry looked at the headstone nearest him. Huh, died in the 1950’s, he noticed. He wondered how often this graveyard was inspected. Probably not often considering how overgrown the grass was.

Suddenly, an old fat dude grabbed his arm and jerked him around, grabbing his other arm in the process. Somewhere in his head, Harry knew he must’ve still had cobwebs in his head as he was sure he should’ve been able to get away from the old dude had he been 100%.

A few minutes later, Harry was tied up to a statue while the old fat dude went back to a big pot over a fire. That was some pot. Wonder if he was making stew? He must be expecting a lot of company, Harry thought.

The old fat dude put in some weird ingredients. Harry knew it was probably fake because who wanted to eat an old skeleton arm.

Next he turned and came towards Harry with a knife outstretched. “Blood from your enemy forcibly taken,” he muttered. What the… he was going to cut me for some blood?

“Hey, is that knife sterile?”

“What?” said the fat old dude.

“Sterile. You know, I really don’t want to get tetanus from that knife,” Harry pointed out.

“Heh-heh, I’m sure that will be the least of your problems. I’m just going to take some of your blood.”

“Does it have to be forcibly taken then?” Harry queried.

“Yes,” muttered a soft voice from behind the old fat dude.

“Then you can take some of my blood, but leave the packets of blood in my pocket alone,” Harry said.

“Wormtail!” hissed a soft voice. “Do not take the blood from his body if he agrees to it. It has to be forcibly taken. Take the blood pouches he has,” the voice instructed.

“Yes, master.” He sheathed his knife and started patting Harry’s pockets.

“Hey, hey, hey, not there if you don’t mind. Try the back pocked on the left. But, uh, don’t take them.”

“There they are!” the old dude gloated. “I have them master.”

“Uncork them and pour them in! Be quick about it!” the voice instructed.

“Uh… they are not corked,” Wormtail looked at the couple of packets in confusion.

“You tear them open across the top,” Harry said helpfully.

“Oh, right. It’s working, master. It’s working!”

“Pour them in, Wormtail!” the voice commanded.

“Yes master,” Wormtail said, turning the packet upside down.

Nothing came out.

“You need to squeeze it out,” Harry said helpfully.

“Oh, right!” He squeezed. The red mass started to come out and went into the cauldron. Plop. He opened the other two packets and repeated the process.

“Why do you have your blood in these packets, Harry?” Wormtail inquired of the still-bound Potter while stirring the smoking goodness.

“Uh, just in case we get fries with dinner,” Harry pointed out.

“Fries? Is that something to ward off a vampire with?”

“Garlic fries? Sure,” Harry guessed, remembering what Lupin had said last year.

{-29-}

“Robe me, Wormtail!” commanded the tall albino with the skin, hair and nose condition. He hissed the command, trying to sound important, but it was a little offset by the bright red afro-like hair on his head punctuated by the right red bulbous nose.

Harry looked at the area with a more critical eye. Not at the weirdo, but at the campfire. How did he slip into that cauldron? It must have had a false bottom he could climb up from. These guys really are going all out to make me believe this magic crap. They must be graduates of that insane asylum.

{-29-}

“Now we duel,” smirked a confident Voldemort.

“Is that some sort of dance, because I only do that with girls,” Harry said to the assembly. “And where’s the music?”

“Duel! Duel!” shouted Voldemort.

Harry walked up to the crazy albino so he could get a better look. He looked him up, then down. “Huh, how about that. According to you and your “magical” followers, you just grew from a vat.”

“It was a ritual that brought me to life, Potter!”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Brought you to life. You look like you could use the sun. But I’m curious: are you whole?”

“Let us duel and find out!” Voldemort shot back, his red hair moving around with his fury.

“Duel? There’s an easier way to find out about that,” Harry suggested.

“And what way is that?”

Harry took one step back. “Like this,” he said and immediately shot his steel-toed boot covered foot into Voldemort’s groin.

Immediately the tall albino man crumpled to the ground.

“You’re whole!” Harry shouted as he ran away.

“Get him!” Voldemort managed to squeak out in a high-pitched voice, writhing on the ground.

Harry ran back into the graveyard, trying to escape the madman convention when his foot touched the trophy cup. He must have passed out because when he came to, he was back at Hogwarts with the headmaster coming towards him.

{-29-}

“So, Potter,” Moody said, pushing him into a seat. “What happened?”

“I went on a field trip to a graveyard,” Harry supplied.

“That I know. But is the master back?”

“Wha…? Oh great, you’re one of them? Why weren’t you at the barbeque tonight with all your pals?”

“I had to stay here and make sure Dumbledore remained… remained… where is that vial?”

“Vial?”

“My polyjuice!” he grunted, looking in the room.

“Is that like aspirin? Or viagra? Because I’ll have you know that I’m not that kind of guy.”

A pause.

“Uh-oh.” Harry got up and went to the door, opened it and shouted, “We have a code-red! An old guy in here is having a heart attack! Code-red!”

Harry went back to Professor Moody. He had started changing.

“Wow, this faker was good at pretending to be disabled,” Harry muttered to no one as he saw the peg-leg fall off and his real leg come out. “Probably wanted a close-in parking spot,” Harry mused.

{-29-}

Steve2: And thus ends Year 4 for Harry.

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	31. Chapter 30: I Found it, Granger, I Found it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 5

Original chapter 10 by Rune, updates by Steve2

Rune: For (A Pyro) -the doc manager really doesn’t like your name- who asked to see Harry finding the Room of Requirement. Of course, this is more Harry showing it off then finding it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-30-}

Hermione Granger was not quite sure what to expect when she met Harry Potter, but it definitely wasn’t the not-believing-in-magic-but-willing-to-play-along-for-now Harry Potter that she got. This, however, did not bother her.

The fact that he got into Slytherin didn’t bother her either. Harry didn’t believe in magic, so he didn’t believe in magical prejudices (i.e.: he not only didn’t believe that a ‘mudblood’ could exist, he defended her from the other Slytherins that called her that, calling it rude, boorish, and truthfully stupid to call people made-up words).

She was only slightly bothered by the fact that he believed Slytherin was the only sane house, but he claimed that even if she was a Gryffindor, she was as sane as he was.

**Flashback**

“I am not insane just because I’m a Gryffindor!” Hermione hissed in anger. Harry just stared at her. He was reminded rather well of a hissing cat.

“I know,” he replied simply.

“…you… know…?” Now she reminded him of a confused cat.

“Well, yeah, I mean sure most of Slytherin is sane, but we have Draco Malfoy here. Considering that we have an insane person in our house, it’s only logical that there would be sane people in other houses, just stands to reason that it’s not that many. You’re one of the few. In fact, you’re just as sane as I am, Gryffindor or not.”

Hermione never told him that that sentiment didn’t make her feel very sane.

**End Flashback**

That had been in their second year, although outside of that conversation he still held true to the belief that Slytherin was the only sane house. Harry’s friend, Blaise, never spent much time around her (usually only when Harry dragged him along). That didn’t bother her either – Blaise explained that he was neutral on the whole pureblood supremacy thing, but that Harry couldn’t protect him from the other Slytherins forever, so it was best that Blaise wasn’t seen with what they considered to be a ‘mudblood’.

What did bother her? Well, Umbitch – oh, Umbridge (dammit, she was channeling Harry now – Harry had started calling her Umbitch the moment he met her) – for one. That toad couldn’t teach a class to save her life (and she was obviously intending for the students to give up their own lives in the process – this was a war dammit – they didn’t have time to screw around).

Hermione and a few other Gryffindors had decided to make a sort of club, a defense learning club, but they needed a place to hide it, where Umbitch – oops, Umbridge – couldn’t find it. The fact that she couldn’t find a place also bothered her.

The fact that Harry came running down the hall and began shaking her while screaming, “I found it, Granger, I found it!” also bothered her; more the fact that she was being shaken than the fact that Harry was nuts.

“Found what Harry?” she asked, after getting him to stop shaking her.

“The holodeck! I found the holodeck!”

“The what?” Harry gave her a strange look.

“Don’t you watch Star Trek? I thought you were a trekkie after that Halloween ball thing?”

Hermione looked annoyed. The Halloween costume party/ball had been the headmaster’s idea, and she had dressed up as one of her favorite characters. “Chewbacca is from Star Wars you idiot.” She suspected that Harry obviously didn’t get out much, or know anything about the two series if couldn’t tell the difference.

“Oh, well, either way – I found the holodeck! Come on!” And with that Harry proceeded to drag her up several flights of stairs.

“What the hell are you doing?” she inquired, watching him walk back and forth.

“Watch,” Harry said, walking back and forth one more time. A door appeared, magically – although Harry apparently thought otherwise. “It’s the holodeck!” he exclaimed, opening the door and dragging her inside.

“And what exactly does the holodeck do?”

“Think of something, anything.”

Hermione sighed, and wished, not for the first time this year, that she had her favorite book series that she had left at home.

A bookshelf appeared, filled with every book of that series – even the ones she didn’t have yet. She squeaked, and quickly thought of a place for the students to learn defense.

The room supplied pillows, a chalkboard (with erasers and chalk), books upon books of defensive spells, shelves of potion supplies, practice dummies, and targets for them to shoot.

Hermione squealed happily and hugged Harry, kissing him on the cheek.

“You’re a genius!” she yelled, before running out of the room to inform the others of their new meeting place.

“I’m a genius because I found the holodeck?” Harry asked, “Cool! I wonder what else I can find!” This thought, of course, led Harry to explore the castle. He was missing for three days and still hadn’t found anything else. Well, nothing that he hadn’t already been expecting.

Dumbledore nearly had a heart attack, both when he found out Harry was missing, and when said Slytherin returned, slightly dusty, but none the worse for wear.

{-30-}

Rune: Almost immediately after reading (A Pyro)’s review, I thought of the holodeck. I’m not a trekkie, but I always liked Data and Geordi LaForge (mostly because of the visor), so I know enough about Star Trek to remember the holodeck.

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Rune/Steve2


	32. Chapter 31: Detention and the Nazgul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 5

Original chapter 15 by Rune, updates by Steve2

Rune’s Note: Khamûl was the name of one of the Nazgûl. Khamûl the Dementor is an OC (Original Character).

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-31-}

Mr. Rock was a special rock. After spending a thousand years in a castle filled with magic, then being picked up by one of the strongest magical wizards in centuries (despite the fact that he didn’t actually believe in magic), led Mr. Rock to be partially sentient. It wasn’t very sentient, of course, what with being a rock and not having a brain, but sentient nonetheless.

Mr. Rock fancied herself (as she was a girl rock, no matter her title) Harry’s first line of defense. She took on walruses (Marge Dursley), Nazgûl (Dementors), and even protected Harry from Blondie (Lockhart’s) memory spell by catching his attention.

So, when more Nazgûl attacked, shortly before Harry’s fifth year began, Mr. Rock took it upon herself to deal with them.

And she did. This of course led to the dementors being scared of Mr. Rock. After the incident on the train in Harry’s third year, and this incident now, the dementors decided they were better off being on the same side as Mr. Rock. Harry had unknowingly gained several hundred followers that were terrified of Mr. Rock.

Why is this important to know?

Because Delores Umbridge should have known when there was no notice of magic use after she sent the dementors after Harry Potter that it would be a bad year. Especially when the Minister received a letter from the Dementor population at Azkaban as a whole that said they were quitting because ‘Rocks shouldn’t be that scary’ and ‘Mr. Rock has better dental anyway’.

{-31-}

Harry liked to skip the boring classes. The Defense Against The Dark Arts class was boring most days, and even more boring now that Um… Um… Um-something… Umbitch maybe? She was certainly bitchy enough. Anyway, the classes were even more boring since she took over. So, naturally, Harry skipped the next class after the first class. And the next one. And the next one. And the next one.

“Mr. Potter!” Umbridge yelled, when she finally caught up with him.

“Yes, Profesor Umbitch?” Harry answered. Umbridge turned a shade of purple that Uncle Vernon would be jealous of.

“It’s Professor Umbridge, Mr. Potter!” she hissed, the purple on her face growing a shade darker.

“Oh, is it. My apologies, Professor. I shall do my best to remember it.”

“Yes, well. I suppose you can be forgiven for the slight. It’s obvious you pay attention to nothing. You have not been attending my class.” The purple lightened slightly.

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“It’s boring.” The purple grew even darker than before.

“I see. I’m afraid, Mr. Potter, that ‘It’s boring.’ is not a proper reason to excuse you from class. That will be detention, I think. One week, for every missed class. That’s a month of detentions already, Mr. Potter. Tut-tut. We’ll start at eight tonight, my office.”

“Okay.” Umbridge nodded and walked (Harry wasn’t sure if she had waddled) away with her nose in the air. Harry headed to the hospital wing to inform Madame Pomfrey of Professor Umbitch’s color. That shade of purple couldn’t possibly be healthy.

{-31-}

Harry Potter never showed up to his first day of detention. Or his second. Or his third. It was a common sight to see Umbridge with a purple face. Pomfrey asked Professor Snape to have his NEWT students work on a potion that lowered blood pressure. She was running out of the hospital wing’s stock trying to keep Umbridge’s head from popping off (as high blood pressure was seen to do that in weaker wizards and witches).

Halfway into the second week of Harry skipping detentions, Pomfrey asked Professor Snape to put all his students on making it. Finally, Umbridge’s grating voice (which seemed even worse when she complained about Harry) had gotten on Snape’s nerves enough that he decided to make sure Harry suffered as well, and dragged the fifth year to his next detention himself.

“Well now, Mr. Potter. I think another week for every detention you skipped, as well as every class you’ve missed since we first spoke. Now, let’s begin shall we,” she said, handing him a long thin black quill. “You’ll not need any ink for this quill, Mr. Potter.” A large grin formed on her face. “You’ll right out lines: I will obey my betters.”

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

Umbridge’s grin faltered, as she stormed over to the door, and ripped it open. She was fully prepared to begin telling off the person who interrupted her when she saw who, or rather what, it was that had knocked.

At Umbridge’s terrified squeak, Harry looked up from the lines he had started (not: “I will obey my betters”, but: “I would obey my betters if they weren’t all insane. Not that there are many of my betters. Although there are a lot of insane people here”).

“Oh, hello, Khamûl,” Harry greeted the dementor. “How are you?”

The dementor let out a moan-y type of groan which meant, “Utterly terrified of Mr. Rock. Please don’t let her eat me. I will do your bidding for the rest of eternity. I speak for the brethren on this,” but that Harry took to mean as, “Fine.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Harry responded.

Umbridge let out another squeak as the dementor bowed to Harry and then moved to stand behind him, and Harry’s only reaction was to go back to his lines (adding to his lines: “My Nazgûl friend is here. I should talk to the Nazgûl. They’re causing undue terror in the insane people. It’s probably because they dress in black. Maybe I should get them a t-shirt with a smiley face on it. I’ll think about it. Hey, Umbitch is turning purple again. This task is boring.”)

Delores Umbridge never gave Harry detention again.

{-31-}

Later in the year, Hermione Granger began banging her head against the wall when Harry told her, “The Nazgûl have sworn eternal loyalty and service to me. Does that make me Sauron?”

{-31-}

Steve2 Note: this ends the last of the original chapters by Rune. All future chapters will be by me and whoever wants to assist.

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	33. Chapter 32: Ministry of Magic part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 5

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-32-}

“I’m telling you, this is a waste of time,” Harry complained to his friends as they tried to stealthily walk through the Hall of Prophecies. Tried to because Harry wasn’t cooperating and was instead just walking down, looking around at all the junk from the New Age store that someone had shoved into a warehouse.

“But Harry, the letter you got says that innocent people will be tortured to death if we don’t retrieve that orb,” Hermione pointed out.

“I also got one saying that I was an instant millionaire if I only ordered a few magazines a month,” Harry complained. “Not that it didn’t happen.”

“How do you know, Harry Potter?” Luna chimed in. “You put them in your Aunt’s name when you sent the form back.”

That stopped Harry. “True. Maybe she’s an instant millionaire. But I doubt it. She can’t be that lucky.”

“Why am I here again?” Blaise complained.

“If Granger was going to bring Weasley with her, then I wanted someone to make sure he didn’t grab me and throw me down some hidden stairs, or into a hole with a lot of vegetation. That’s why. Now quit complaining. It’s upsetting Mr. Rock.”

“Yes, do stop complaining, Mr. Zabini,” commented a new, silky voice trying to sound suave and sophisticated.

The students all stopped and were immediately surrounded by the same bunch of campers that had come to barbeque at the end of Harry’s last year. Great. Them again.

“Hand over the prophecy, Potter,” instructed the same silky voice.

“What prophecy? You mean one of these orbs? You do know that all this magic hubbub is for the birds, right?” Harry looked around at his friends behind him with scared looks.

Harry looked at the same black-clad, silver-mask wearing creeps in front of him. “Look, why don’t you take the masks off and we can all get comfortable and talk about why magic doesn’t exist.”

“It does exist!” screamed a female voice in black robes.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Harry nearly chortled. “It’s almost laughable that all anyone has to do is wave a stick like this around and mutter words like hocus pocus, or explosivo castrado and…”

Zzaaaaappp!

“Aaaarrgh!”

Harry grinned happily. “Hey, someone put a taser in this stick. Shoot again. Oh wait, that’s right: it’s voice activated. Explosivo castrado!”

Zzaaaaappp!

“Aaaarrgh!”

Harry looked at the smoking tip of his wand. “Neat! If I’d known this baby had this trick before, I’d have used it last year!”

Zap! Zap, zap, zap!

“Hey, they have tasers too!” Harry yelled. “Run everyone!”

The students needed no more prompting and took off.

{-32-}

A special shout out where I got this spell from. It was funny the first time I read it in his story and it is still funny even after all these years to put it to new uses.

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	34. Chapter 33: Ministry of Magic part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 5

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-33-}

The students had run this way and that way, tried to lose their pursuers in offices and weird labs where there were too many individuals that had way too much time on their hands to do strange stuff, or at least that was what Harry thought, but eventually the chase ended. Harry, Blaise, Luna, Hermione and Ron were surrounded by over a dozen adults playing dress-up with black robes and silver masks.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Harry Potter,” chortled an evil sounding voice.

The adults playing dress-up parted and a new adult showed up. He wasn’t wearing a mask, but his visage still showed that it belonged.

“Harry,” Hermione started loud enough for the other adults to hear her. “Is he wearing a wig?”

“No, that’s his red afro hair,” Harry stated simply.

“How about that nose?” Ron wondered aloud.

“That’s his real nose as well,” Harry confirmed.

“It looks like all you’d have to do is tweak it and it might honk…” Luna started.

“Be quiet about my nose!” Voldemort snarled. A slight honk was heard as he inhaled sharply.

“I guess we could talk about your hair instead,” Luna pointed out.

“Silence, all of you!”

“Even me?” Harry said.

“Can I crucio him, m’lord?” Bellatrix simpered.

“Not now, my dear Bellatrix. We will break him first and then you can enjoy yourself.”

“You know, you need a better set of minions,” Harry smarted off.

Voldemort laughed, well, more like laughed with a few honks. He stopped within seconds and looked around to see if anyone heard. Those masks hid his followers’ features. Then, back towards Harry, he said, “My minions live to serve, Potter. Something you should have realized for yourself before now. They perform quite well. They managed to bring you and your posse here, didn’t they?”

“Not really,” Harry replied. “We’re here because it’s an escape attempt from the insane asylum.”

“Believe what you want, Potter,” Voldemort sneered/honked. “I think I shall prefer my associates to yours.”

“You want to see how big of a bunch of idiots you have around you? Fine!” Harry smirked and then jumped behind Hermione and Blaise where he quickly pulled out a black cap with a stiff brim from his back pocket and put it on his head. He stood up straight and moved to stand to the left of Blaise. A goofy smile stood out on his face.

“Hey! Where did Potter go?” one of the Death Eaters asked of another, taking his mask off to get a better look around the atrium.

“Dunno,” grunted a reply, as more and more DE’s took off their masks to look around the atrium.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” sang a deranged voice. “I promise not to hurt you much, ickle Potter!”

Harry, still with the goofy grin, pulled out a wrapped ding dong from his pocket and put a fancy candle on it with a long fuse. Harry knew that he had made good use of the “remedial potions” class he had gone to this year. He and Professor Snape had discussed all sorts of interesting chemical concepts, and even tried a few experiments.

Harry looked at the milling Death Eaters, then announced, “Special delivery for Bellatrix Lestrange!”

Bellatrix took her mask off and Harry noticed that the insane apple didn’t fall far from the tree for that one.

“For me?” Bellatrix smiled. “Okay, which one of you a-holes remembered it was my birthday? You bastiches!”

Harry walked quickly over to the deranged witch and handed the parcel to Bella. “What? No tip?”

“You want a Crucio, kid? Scram!”

“Blow out the candle, Bella!” the elder Nott instructed, the identity Harry would later learn from Blaise.

“Make a wish first!” Bella’s husband chanted several times.

Harry moved around from the bunched up Death Eaters and went back to his friends.

Hermione was amazed at how fast their attention went to something else.

“I think we should go over there,” Harry pointed to another room.

“Why?” Blaise wanted to know.

“It’s safer from the explosion,” Harry grabbed Luna’s hand and pulled her along.

Hermione’s eyes bugged out and she grabbed Ron’s and Blaise’s hands and pulled them to the other room.

Moments after entering the other room…

KA-BOOM!

“Potter!”

Harry grimaced. “Nuts. Didn’t get the lead nutter.”

{-33-}

I leave it to the readers to figure out why Voldie didn’t blow up.

A special shout-out to the first person who knows what movie Harry’s delivery person character came from.

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	35. Chapter 34: Ministry of Magic part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 5

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

Note: it was “noylj” who was first to recognize the scene in the last chapter as belonging to that 1970’s western classic, Blazing Saddles! I would also like to mention “crocket”, “MuNgo”, and “The Arcticourt Spellwright” for also having the right answers. And, “jessica”, this chapter was written before your suggestions were seen. I hope you like it as it does partially cover some of what you asked for.

{-34-}

A few minutes after the explosion, Harry, Luna, Blaise, Hermione and Ron cautiously re-entered the Atrium. They found a red-afro, red-nosed megalomaniac looking around at the carnage. “Bella?” he inquired of a gruesome set of… parts.

“Let’s get out of here before he notices us,” Harry quietly suggested, indicating the elevator lift in the distance.

“Potter! I see you!” yelled the white-faced, red-nosed fiend.

“Take a picture then! It’ll last longer! Run, people!”

Harry knew they should have rushed off right then and there. They had younger legs and better stamina than the old timers playing dress-up, well, those that weren’t in parts at least. But for some reason, his people didn’t start running. He looked away from the scowling evil “wizard” to what was holding up his group.

Another group had come down the lift and was not staring at the students and the carnage in horror. It wasn’t more grown-ups playing dress-up with black robes and silver masks. Instead, it was the crazy minister and his flunkies along with Headmaster Dumbledore and a few others he didn’t recognize.

“Scooby-do switcheroo!” Harry heard behind him. Turning, he saw himself standing where that evil git had been.

Looking down, he noticed he now looked like the evil git in question.

Wow! Portable hologram fields! Harry smiled at this.

Probably not the smartest thing to do since Hermione turned around, saw him, or better yet, the evil git’s face he was wearing, and screamed bloody murder. The lungs on that girl – honestly!

“You-Know-Who!” shouted the Minister. “Aurors! Seize him!”

Needless to say, Harry was taken into custody, the kids (including the evil “Harry”) were returned to school by Dumbledore, and the ministry janitors got to work.

{-34-}

Harry wore some serious looking handcuffs as he was paraded through the police headquarters of this crazy government. It didn’t take him long to come up with a plan of action once he was seated down on a wooden chair behind a metal desk that had seen better days several decades earlier.

He had not been able to deactivate the hologram surrounding him, no matter what phrases he’d given.

“Careful with this one, Rufus,” warned the fellow with the stick behind Harry’s back. “He’s been talking in tongues the entire way here. He’s up to something.”

Harry turned and glared at the poor crazy man with the stick. “Whatever,” he muttered.

“There! He did it again!” the same man poked his stick into Harry’s shoulder to get him to stop.

“Alright then,” Rufus started. “My name is Rufus Scrimgeour and I’m senior auror here.”

“Gotcha,” Harry agreed. “Rufus. Nice name. Say, you lot better not wear straightjackets as that is certain to traumatize me,” Harry supplied.

“What’s a straightjacket?” Rufus wanted to know, anxious to find anything to make this madman spill his guts without him having to literally spill his guts with a spell.

“Muggle battle armour,” Harry replied simply. They wouldn’t, Harry started thinking…

Rufus grinned victoriously. The good cop/bad cop routine worked every time. “Shack, Dawlish – go get straightjackets for all the Aurors.”

There was a mad scramble and soon enough they were all wearing straightjackets.

Rufus sat back down in his chair with a grin on his face.

“Evil” Harry looked at the Auror. “Wow, it looks like those fit good on you and your men. Now I expect a harsh cell to be put into as a soft one will certainly traumatize me into telling you all my secrets.”

Rufus knew he was on a roll. “Move this dark lord to the comfy cells!”

“We don’t have one of those,” responded one of the Aurors Harry later found was named John Dawlish.

“Are you a wizard or not? Make one!” Rufus snapped.

Dawlish looked at his superior and then struggled a bit. “How? I can’t reach my wand through this battle armour.”

“No whining in the ranks!” Rufus commanded to all the Aurors struggling similarly.

{-34-}

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, er… I mean, back at Hogwarts, Dumbledore and the kids rescued from the ministry were in the infirmary.

“I see all your clothes dirty and there are marks on your faces,” Madam Pomfrey tsked as she walked between the students seated on the beds. “Let me check your magical cores…”

“That’s fine, Poppy,” Dumbledore chuckled at the busy medi-witch. “I’ll return young Mr. Potter to your clutches as soon as he and I have a quick conversation.”

“But what if he is severely injured, Headmaster?” she shot back.

“Then I’ll return him that much sooner. Now if you will excuse us two.” Dumbledore gently prodded his young student back through the infirmary doors and then set a pace for his office.

Voldemort didn’t know if to laugh or crow in triumph. He could finally rid the world of this old menace.

“Now, Harry,” Dumbledore began as they finally reached the steps to his office. “I imagine you are wondering why I brought you here instead of allowing you to stay with your friends.”

“Uh…” Voldemort began. “Yeah, that did get me wondering,” he finally said, trying to put enough kid terms in that statement to keep the old fool from knowing his arch enemy had him at wand point.

“I regret what I have to tell you, Harry,” Dumbledore sat behind his desk and reached for a lemon drop. “But it is for the greater good. You see, it was valiant of you to fight off Lord Voldemort the way you did tonight. That proves you have magic. But let me tell you why I brought you here. It all had to do with a prophecy.”

“What prophecy?” Harry/Voldemort said. Voldemort nearly gave himself away right then and there. Maybe Dumbledore was going to give it to him after all…

“It has to do with that scar of yours, and well, let me just play it for you,” and with that he pulled a memory out of his head and put it into a pensive.

He tapped the sides of the pensive with his wand and the memory started to play above the stone bowl.

In it Sybill Trelawney is knocking back a glass of hooch when she started her moaning.

“Born as the seventh month dies… wow, is this some good booze or what… where was I? Oh, right. Born as the seventh month dies… Born… man, my glass is empty, could you be a chap and pour me some of that… right, where were we? Oh, right. Born to… How could he be born as two? I didn’t really get that part. Oh, right. Born to those that have defied him… once, twice, three times a lady, ohhh-hohhh, yes, sing it baby… Oh, right…”

{-34-}

Harry, wearing what he was sure was the holographic disguise of one of the inmates that had escaped and currently called himself a dark lord, was currently in Ministry Comfy Cell A-1 where he was lounging in a recliner eating a bag of crisps and drinking a goblet of wine. He had asked for water but changed it to wine when they muttered that no self-respecting dark lord would drink water. Especially water in London.

So Harry ordered wine and proceeded to taste tannins with greasy chips.

Unbeknownst to Harry, Rufus Scrimgeour’s boss had just come into the office.

“Welcome back, Madam Bones,” Rufus greeted his boss.

“Rufus,” Madam Bones greeted, then stopped. “What are you wearing?”

Rufus preened. “It’s the latest thing in muggle battle armour, boss. Enjoy your PTO?”

Amelia pinched the bridge of her nose. It was going to be one of these days. “What’s going on, Rufus?”

It took a few minutes for Rufus to explain that they had caught You-Know-Who earlier that day in the atrium and that they were holding him in Comfy Cell A-1. It took a little longer to explain all that since Rufus kept trying to use his hands to accentuate his point, and couldn’t, whereupon he fell over and then struggled to stand back up.

Finally standing, Rufus continued, “We’re just wearing that bastard down with all the niceties that he can’t stand, and then we’re going to interrogate him like there’s no tomorrow.”

“Uh-huh,” Madam Bones grunted. “I’d better go see this myself, Rufus. You stay here and… do something.”

“Right, boss.”

Amelia Bones, Director of the DMLE made her way to what was once a coat closet that had been expanded to Comfy Cell A-1. She entered the cell and noticed that a pasty white-faced man of above-average height with red wiry-hair and an equally red nose was leaning back on a recliner with his feet crossed.

“Voldemort?” she inquired.

The man turned to her, smiled and said, “Hiya, babe. Nice monocle.”

“Thank you. It was my mother’s.”

“Really? Brings out the color of your eye,” Harry replied, popping another crisp into his mouth.

Amelia Bones looked around the room some more. “Something is off here…” she muttered mainly to herself.

Ppphhhrrrppppp. “Whoops. Sorry about that. Whew, that was a stinker. Must be the crisps. Ah well, better out than in.” Harry then spritzed out some air freshener.

Madam Bone’s eyes shot open so fast she nearly lost her monocle. She then ran out to talk to Scrimgeour.

“That’s not You-Know-Who!” she declared to her second in command.

“Sure it is,” Rufus returned. “Looks like him.”

“That part is true,” Amelia agreed. “It looks like him. It sounds like him.”

“Then it’s him,” Rufus stated as if it were fact.

Amelia shook her head. “But it doesn’t smell like him!”

“Two out of three isn’t so bad…” Rufus countered.

“It’s an imposter! Find out who he is. And make sure he keeps that air-spray handy. He may not smell like a Dark Lord, but that doesn’t mean he’s fresh as a Daisy.”

{-34-}

Meanwhile, at Hogwarts, Headmaster office…

“Oh, right. Where was I? Ah, yes …so there I was, taking a train ride in… the Congo! It was hot and humid. The type of day, I mean, night, that was difficult to swallow the hooch they had on that train. Speaking of hooch, is that old lady still teaching the kids to zoom about on those brooms? What’s up with that? Ooooooohhh, I feel a prophecy coming on… The one to beat… beat… beat of the drums along the Rockies, now that is something I would like to see one of these days… where was I? Oh yes, the one to beat the stuffing out of the rugs of the dark lord… what? Not rugs? Oh yes, now I remember…”

{-34-}

Meanwhile, back at the Ministry cells:

Surprisingly, Rufus Scrimgeour managed to open the cell door to Comfy Cell A-1. He stormed in and barked, “Okay, creep, who are you?”

Harry looked over to him, putting the latest crisp down. “Are you sure you should be pointing that thing at me?”

“Huh?” Rufus hadn’t been expecting that.

“Your wand, idiot,” Harry pointed to the man. “I would think you would want to point your wand at me instead of that… thing. What the heck is that anyway?”

“Huh?” Another thing that Rufus hadn’t been expecting.

Harry shook his head and stood up. “Well, whatever it is, I wouldn’t want to touch it.”

“Huh?”

“So when am I going back to the insane asylum?”

“Huh?”

Harry looked at where his watch was supposed to be, but didn’t see it on the pasty white arm. “That soon, eh? Okay. So what do you need from me?”

Amelia Bones took that moment to come into the room. “What do you have, Rufus?”

Harry put his hands out to stop whatever “it” was. “Whatever he has, I don’t want it. And you can’t make me.”

“Huh?” That was Rufus again.

“Huh?” And that was Amelia Bones.

“You taking me back to the insane asylum now?”

Amelia snapped her fingers. “Wait! Susan’s talked about you and your belief that Hogwarts is an insane asylum. You’re Harry Potter!”

Harry smiled. “Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!”

“Huh?” Rufus really did have a limited vocabulary.

Amelia ignored her subordinate. “So what are you doing looking like You Know Who?”

“How do you know I’m not really him to start with?” Harry wanted to know.

“See! He’s really the dark lord!” Rufus stated.

Harry snorted. “You wish. Maybe you’re the dark lord the way you hold your wand and the way you’re pointing that… thing… at me. You perv.”

“Huh?”

Harry looked to Amelia. “Is this thing broken?”

“Oh, for the luva… Finite!” Amelia did the necessary wand work, not that Harry was paying attention. As usual.

Harry resumed his normal shape, other than the orange-covered fingers from the bag of crisps.

{-34-}

Meanwhile, at Hogwarts, Headmaster office…

Voldemort resumed his normal shape as well. Not that either the Headmaster or Voldemort were paying attention to it. The prophecy of Trelawney had put them to sleep.

{-34-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2

And thus ends Year 5


	36. Chapter 35: The Fog of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 6

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-35-}

“Hello, Harry Potter,” Luna said immediately as Harry opened the door.

“Hi Luna,” Harry replied, opening the Dursley door all the way to allow her to enter with the big box in her arms.

“Hello, Stubby,” Luna nodded to the biker-type man lounging on the couch.

“Hey,” he said simply, going back to watching the Martha Stewart marathon while drinking a Guinness.

“Don’t take this the wrong way or anything, Luna, but why are you here? No one ever visits me over the summer at this house,” Harry clarified.

“I came to bring you your birthday gift,” she smiled, shoving the box into his hands.

“A birthday gift? For me?” Harry took in the sight of the brightly wrapped birthday present and his grin grew. He put it down on the coffee table. Sirius, oblivious to everything Martha, moved over on the couch to allow Harry to sit while Luna sat in the adjoining chair.

Luna was beaming at Harry’s reaction. “Happy Birthday, Harry.”

“Thanks, Luna. Um… just so you know, my birthday was last week.”

“Then this comes as even a bigger surprise, doesn’t it?” her musical voice laughed.

Harry tore away some of the paper around the box top, opened it, and pulled out a device. “It’s… it’s a… Luna, what is it?” Harry asked.

“Oh, it’s something that all important people should have. It announces your entrance like nothing else. It just screams ‘you’, you know?”

“Huh?”

“It’s a fog machine, Harry,” Luna patted his knee while Sirius’ eyes kept a constant visage as to where that hand might go. He could always hope for his godson.

Harry and Luna spent a fun hour setting up the fog machine and learning how it worked. Sirius helped out by putting in his own “style” on the machine so that it worked all the time at full blast without the need for electricity.

“See, Harry?” Luna started. “You can use this to announce your coming into a classroom.”

“That is a great idea. Only…”

“Yes, Harry?”

“I was thinking this really isn’t our cup of tea, you know? I mean, when you think about it, I really don’t go to that many classes.”

“Hmmm, yes, that is true,” she conceded. “You could always use it to announce yourself when coming downstairs here to dinner.”

“True. If I ate with the Dursleys. Which hasn’t happened as long as I’ve lived here. Wait! I have it! I know who could use this!”

“Who?” Luna was enjoying the conversation. It was vastly different from the ones she usually had at school with the members of her “house”.

“How about the head insane person… Fudgie?”

“Oh, he’s out at the ministry,” Luna supplied. “There’s a new person in charge: Rufus Scrimgeour.”

“Then let’s send it to him,” Harry offered with a grin.

“I’m not sure politicians use fog machines, Harry.”

“I know, but you know Rufus. This has his name written all over it.”

“You just wrote them there. I saw you,” Luna pointed out as Harry put down the marker. On the side of the box was now written: ‘The Property of the Head Government Stooge.’

“Just goes to prove you’re the smartest witch I know.”

“And don’t you forget it, buster,” Luna smiled at this fun person to be around.

Sirius continued to watch her hands, and hope something would happen that would make James proud. Or at least a grandparent if he were still alive.

{-35-}

“Bwahahahahahahahahahahahahah! Those imbeciles! They will rue the day they crossed me,” Voldemort cackled like the madman he was in his subterranean lair (also known as the Malfoy basement with lots of faux wood paneling).

“Yes, master,” Wormtail replied automatically to his latest rant. It was easier to humour him instead of listening to him drone on and on (punctuated with an odd crucio here and there) about the need to listen to the greatest dark lord of all time.

“I realize what’s been behind these setbacks, Wormtongue…”

“Wormtail, master.”

“Crucio!”

“Aaack!”

“No, my attacks against Harry Potter have been thwarted too often of late. If I don’t put a stop to these defeats, my name will not be synonymous with terror and chaos.”

“You mean they were?”

“Crucio!”

“Aaack!”

“I need a rallying cry, Wormtongue! Something that will expand our recruiting efforts to bring in new dark troops.”

Wormtail wisely kept his mouth shut about not letting prospective dark applicants see the new costume they had to wear until after they’d taken the dark mark.

“I have decided on another target. A target that hits close to these sheep in wizard robes. They will again fear my name like nothing else. It is time to do something about Minister Scrimgeour!”

“Do you want me to place an order for 100 pizzas and have it delivered to him so he has to pay a sudden bill?” Wormtail asked slowly, not sure if he was going to get crucio’d again or not.

Voldemort thought about it for a moment. “An intriguing idea, Wormtongue, but not one to use at this time. Perhaps later against Harry Potter when he is at Hogwarts and has no way to pay for them. No, this time we are going to set loose the dementors on Minister Scrimgeour. Hahahahahahahahahahahaha!”

{-35-}

“Nervous, Minister?” Delores Umbridge asked, straightening her Minister’s robes a bit.

“Not really. It’s just a speech. Working undercover under Bones’ scrutiny was more taxing. It sure was nice Mr. Potter gave us that fog machine.”

“Gave you the fog machine, Minister. You’re the Minister, so it is your machine.”

“Nope. He gave it to the Ministry. That means it belongs to you as well,” he said offhand.

“So where is it?”

“I have Weatherbee setting it up onstage now. It needs a few minutes to get going to make all that fog.”

“He must have started it. It’s getting a little cold in here.”

“Well, I can’t have my campaign manager getting cold now, can I? You should grab a coat then,” Rufus suggested.

“How about the two of us share a little body… heat,” Delores arched an eye up at her Minister.

“Uh…” Rufus wasn’t sure he had heard that right.

“And that’s not all we can share,” Delores continued with that flirt, inching closer, puckering up.

“Uh…” Rufus wasn’t sure he wanted to hear anymore.

“I can think of a few other things,” she said while pulling her Minister into an embrace while making kissing noises. “Mmmmmm,” she moaned. “Oh, Rufus, you certainly know how to turn a girl on.”

“Uh… Delores,” he began.

“Just you wait until I get you back home and then we can…”

“Minister! Minister!” an out-of-breath Percy ran into the room he and Delores were in.

“Yes, Weatherbee?”

Percy reached up and tapped his wand on a thingy on his robe that he’d put there earlier. “Sorry about that, Minister.”

“Sorry about what?”

“Um… well you know how we’ve been experimenting with some muggle political inventions?” At Rufus’ nod, he continued. “Well, Penelope and I, well, we sort of spelled that microphone thingy on your robe to activate earlier to test it outside with the sonorous spell and, well, the reporters heard your conversation with Madame Umbridge just now.”

“How much of it?”

“All of it.”

Moments later, a flushed Minister Rufus entered the speech room. The fog machine was going full blast. He tapped his microphone (what will those muggles come up with next – this thing was just spiffy despite his current debacle) and walked through the mist to the podium. “Hi, everyone. I’m glad you could make it,” he started.

“Better than making out!” someone yelled from the back.

Hahahahahahahahahah!

Considering there were only six reporters present, Rufus had a pretty good idea of who it was. Or would have had a good idea if he could see them. Man, that fog machine really worked in closed-in spaces.

“Uh… right. Anyway, I just wanted to give you an idea of what’s going on with the ministry these days.”

“Like married ministers making out with madams?”

Hahahahahahahahahah!

Rufus face-palmed, knowing what the next day’s headline was going to be.

{-35-}

Voldemort sat in his throne at the breakfast table. He wore a fuzzy black robe cinched around his waist with some matching black fuzzy slippers, both of which Malfoy Sr. had procured for him prior to his incarceration. He sipped his cup of coffee and read the paper. The headline was not full of doom and gloom like he had expected. Instead, it read:

**MINISTER SCRIGGY AND HIS FIRST LADY GET DOWN AND FUNKY WITH EACH OTHER!**

What had happened to his plan? Where had his dementors gone? True, he’d had to recruit them from the continent, but why weren’t they back yet? Where was that idiot Wormtongue when he needed his bagel toasted?

Moments later Voldemort felt the familiar chill run down his spine and saw one of the dementors drift into his sanctuary. I wonder where all the others are? he thought.

Putting the paper down, Voldemort cast the ministry-restricted, super-duper secret spell that allowed him to converse with the dementor (and allowed the Ministry to keep them working at their prison prior to them telling the Wizard Warden to take his job and shove it). “What happened to the plan?” Voldemort hissed. “Were you foiled? Too many patronus and you were forced to retreat?”

“No,” it hissed back. “The aurors and ministry staff didn’t even know we were there. We infiltrated like you said we could. We were poised for attack in his speech room. Again, as you planned.”

“Then what happened?” Had Voldemort been a better student of body language, he would have been able to tell that the dementor was a little livid.

The dementor pointed a finger at Voldemort and said, “You didn’t tell us he had a fog machine! Do you know how much those hurt?! Do you know how it feels to have your being atomized in one of those blasted machines and then shot out the other end with the rest of the rubbish? Do you?! It took me all day to put myself back together again and I’m not even sure if I have my right arm or someone else’s! Now due to your shoddy lack of information, I’ve got to go back home and take inventory with the rest of the gang. That is, once they reconstitute themselves! Do you know how much I hate going back home?!”

“What’s a fog machine?” Voldemort wondered aloud.

The dementor looked up the sky (or more appropriately, to the ceiling which was the floor of the main level above). “Wizards!” he choked in annoyance.

The dementor ghosted closer and reached out with his hand to grab Voldemort’s robes, pulling him out of his chair (er, throne). “Now here’s a little reason why I think you ought to tell me the next time if you are sending me into a situation that has a fog machine! It’s a little something I picked up when I watched one of you humans called Uncle Bubba elucidate his exasperation of a situation to someone else.”

It was strange, but Voldemort could have sworn he heard the dementor crack his knuckles.

Wormtail heard screaming coming down the hall while he was taking a bath, but didn’t think much of it.

{-35-}

This was originally an omake I did for a Rorscharch Blot story that was even used. I thought it went well here so used it. I did change it up a bit to make it a little easier to read and not make this an “M” story. This is the last of the omakes I have previously written that I wanted to use. Special mention to the first reviewer who knows the story it came from.

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	37. Chapter 36: The Slayer Knows All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 6

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

Note: this story does have a mention of an adult topic, but not in-depth, and no details. I do believe this is still rated accurately, but if you, the reader disagrees, please let me know of any problems with this chapter and I can revisit it and tweak it better.

{-36-}

It was a Monday. At least Harry thought it was a Monday. It could have been Hampsterday for all he knew what with having to spend yet another year in the loony bin, studying “magic”. All he knew for certain was that he was in Binns’ classroom. And, unfortunately, awake.

Harry knew the drill by heart. After 5 long years of this class, who couldn’t know the subject matter? It was yet another narrative about a goblin rebellion.

“Okay, class. Today we’ll talk about the goblin rebellion of 1591,” Binns started.

See? Harry was spot on.

“In 1591, the Globstopper rebellion of Kent started when several of the unruly beasts took it upon themselves to renegotiate an already-approved loan of several merchant families. This renegotiation took the form of approximately 170 goblins armed with swords and axes. They started out early Sunday morning when most of the countryside was at services and attacked a small village, slaughtering the 20 muggles. They then went south towards the next village.

“It was then that they encountered a young woman simply known as The Slayer. Not much is known about the battle, but the goblins never advanced beyond that first village, and none of them returned alive to their lair. As for The Slayer – it is told that every generation a young woman is called up to battle vampires and other monsters and they have gained the nickname “Slayer”. No one knows how they are chosen or where they live, only that they fight against the tides of darkness, and goblins.”

Wait a tic, Harry thought. “You’re talking about Buffy, right?” Harry inquired of the history professor. He was promptly ignored.

“What are you talking about, Harry?” Blaise wondered, ignoring the repetitive Binns.

“Oh, Merlin. Potter is about to go off on another wild idea,” Ron snarked.

“Funny, Weasley,” Harry returned. “Look, everyone knows about Buffy, right? No? Snobs. Buffy is the Slayer.”

“You should tell the teacher about that,” Hermione pointed out.

“What?” Pause. “Why? No, wait. Who?”

“Binns!” Hermione pointed to the front of the class.

“Why would I tell Binns?” Harry was actually curious at this and not making fun of her.

Hermione replied, “Because he’s the teacher. Maybe he can provide more insight on the Slayer.”

Harry laughed. “You’re kidding me. Binns is a hologram! Geez, don’t tell me you’re buying into al this magic mumbo jumbo. What am I saying? I’ve been here for years – of course you’re all buying it. Because you’re all nuts!”

Hermione turned snotty. “Maybe you’re nuts for staying here for as long as me then? Hmm, thought of that did you?”

“Of course I’m nuts,” Harry agreed. “I’ve known that for a long time. But I’m the good kind of nuts. The kind that gets you invited to parties.”

Harry’s agreement did not satisfy Hermione. “Maybe I’ll get invited to the same parties then since I’m as nuts as you!”

“Of course you’ll be invited to the same parties – you’ll provide the card tricks that will get us free drinks and a free cab ride back home,” Harry pointed out.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Susan Bones interjected. “What do you mean, a cab ride back home? Are you two living together or something?”

“They’re living together?” Hannah Abbot raised an eyebrow to that. “When did that happen?”

“We’re not living together!” Hermione nearly shrieked.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Well, technically we are all living together.”

“We are not!” Hermione exclaimed.

“We’re all living in a big castle together, right? That means we’re living together.”

“You mean I should tell Gran that I’m living with girls now?” Neville inquired hopefully.

Seamus grinned and replied, “I would if I were you. Maybe she’ll increase your allowance. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.”

“That’s not what that statement implies, though!” Hermione shot back. “We are not living together in the same rooms!”

“Sure we are, Hermione,” Harry rebuffed. “We share common classrooms don’t we? And we share our common rooms as well. We are therefore, technically, living together.”

“That’s true, Granger. We do share a common room,” Pansy Parkinson put in her 2 knuts worth.

Hermione was shocked. “But… but… his statement implies we are living together!”

“Yes?” Sue replied. “And we’ve already touched on that.”

“No, no,” Hermione tried to clarify herself. “As in, we are sharing the same room together. You know, like we are having…”

Harry grinned. “C’mon, Hermione, spit it out already. Like we are having… conversations?”

“I have those all the time. In our common room too,” Hannah pointed out.

“No, no, no! Like we are having…. You know… that,” Hermione again tried to clarify herself.

“Snacks after dinner?” Lisa Turpin tried to help.

“Beverages after dinner and we don’t put them on coasters?” Su Li also tried to help.

Draco had had enough. “No, you morons! She is implying we are having sex!”

Greg put his hands out in the class ‘Stop’ motion. “Whoa, whoa, whoa there everyone! Vince and I are good friends. We’ve known each other since we were toddlers. We’re not into that.”

“Not you, you numbskull!” Draco snarked. “Granger is implying that all the boys are having sex with all the girls since we are living together.”

“You do know the reverse could also be true, right?” Harry calmly stated.

“What?” Draco didn’t know what else to say.

Harry continued to calmly state, “That it’s not just boys having sex with girls, but could also be the girls having sex with boys.”

“They do that?” Seamus wanted to know.

“That’s absurd,” Draco flatly denied.

“And that is why you have to get hitched with marriage betrothals. Yes, dummy, girls like sex,” Harry felt like he was having a conversation with an idiot, and considering where he went to school…

“You’re just having me on,” Draco countered. “Girls like sex?”

“Yes!” Pansy was cross with her… well, whatever he was to her.

“Since when?” Draco started. Then, “No, don’t answer that. Better question: how do you know, Potter?!”

“Luna told me.”

“Luna told you?” Hermione wasn’t sure she heard that right.

“She did.”

“What were you doing when she told you?” Dean asked.

“Dean!” Hermione scolded. “What kind of question was that?! We don’t need to know what they were doing, or were engaged in, or watching, or reading, or anything like that. Their personal lives are their own business.”

“I’m confused,” Millicent announced. “How did we go from listening about Binns talking about the Slayer to talking about Harry’s love life?”

“I’m confused as well, Mr. Plunger,” Binns’ voice droned out. “We were discussing the legend of the Slayer, but it appears you may know more about her than me. Perhaps you can enlighten your classmates then? That is, if you are done discussing your personal life.”

“Talk about the Slayer?” Harry made sure Binns was actually interested. “Sure thing, pal! Okay, the current Slayer is Buffy Summers and she lives in California, which is in the United States. According to you, Binns, that is in the new colonies across the ocean. Anyway, she is the latest in a line of young women known as “Vampire Slayers” or known more simply as “Slayers”. Now, Slayers are chosen by fate to do battle against vampires, demons, and other forces of darkness. For centuries the Slayers have been aided by a group known as Watchers, and each new Slayer gets a Watcher who guides, teaches, and trains her. Buffy, unlike her predecessors, did not want to just stick around with an old guy telling her what to do, what to wear, where to go, how to act. So she stuck it to the man and his old do-it-my-way-young-lady rules and collected a fierce group of like-minded friends around her that are known as the Scooby Gang.”

“You seem remarkably well-informed, Mr. Plunger,” Binns commented.

Harry smiled. “Thanks! It helps to have a working VCR.”

Binns noted the obvious. “You didn’t mention this Muffy Blummers fighting goblins.”

Harry shrugged. “Not too many of them out in California. Maybe the vampires ate them all. You should go check.”

“Hmmm, maybe it is time to take a sabbatical to the new world.”

“You bet it is, pal. Sabbatical all the way.”

As Binns floated back to the front of the class, Blaise leaned over. “Are you crazy? What if they replace Binns with someone else that makes us listen?”

“Listen Blaise; you too Hermione. I’m only going to say this once. Binns is a hologram. And he’s a first generation one since they can’t get his voice modulator to work right. He’s the pits, alright? We should have real teachers here.”

“Harry’s right,” Hermione agreed. “We need real teachers.”

“I guess if we replace the DADA teacher every year, we might be able to replace the history teacher,” Tracey Davis piped in.

“You’re right, Tracey. We should replace Binns. Sure, the novelty was interesting at first, but if you want novelty, how about a part-Borg teach?”

Dean’s eyes popped open. “You mean…”

Harry smirked at the other man’s leap of logic. “Yep. 7 of 9 would be a great teacher here.”

Dean had a pleasant smile. “Oh yeah…”

“She would do fantastic job of, uh… you know, teaching,” Harry suggested.

“Dean, wipe that drool off your face,” Hermione instructed. “Who is 7 of 9?”

Dean leaned over and whispered to Seamus. He helped his cause with some hand gestures that seemed to make curves in the air. Seamus’ eyes widened.

“I want 7 of 9!” Seamus grinned like Dean.

“My guess is it is a woman,” Lavender grimaced. “Wipe that drool off your face, Seamus.”

“If we get 7 of 9 for a history professor for the boys, what do we get for the girls?” Padma wanted to know.

“What are you talking about? What would you girls need?” Draco announced as if his opinion was the only one that mattered.

Everyone just stared at the blond.

Harry patted the boy on the shoulder. “One day, Draco, one day you just might get it. As for you, Padma, let me give it some thought. Do you girls have any requirements?”

Hermione was the first one to speak up. “Well, since we’ll get a new DADA professor after this year, I guess we should opt for that position. Maybe knowledgeable in the subject matter.”

“Pffffft,” Pansy scoffed. “Knowledge is good, but I want my man to know how to use it.”

“Someone who doesn’t like to wear a shirt very much,” Sue suggested.

“Susan!” Hermione was scandalized.

Susan looked at Hermione with open curiosity. “What? That’s what I want.”

“You are always going on about Mi…” Hannah started.

“Shut it!” Sue instructed with a grin. “Okay, updated requirement. Someone who is in shape that doesn’t like to wear a shirt very much.”

Harry nodded. “Okay. Knowledge of the subject, knows how to use his mind, and is clothing optional. Anything else?”

The girls started giggling and listing more and more requirements for Harry to write down.

Draco scoffed at the sight. “Look at them, Nott. Cavorting with the lower class. They are not purporting themselves like proper pure bloods at all. Sniff.”

“That may be true, Malfoy, but look at it this way. You are surrounded by guys while Potter is surrounded by all the girls. Where would you rather be?”

Draco didn’t have an answer for that. Maybe he would have to ask his godfather for suggestions.

{-36-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	38. Chapter 37: Magic is Real and We Can Prove It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 6

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

My apologies for the lateness of this chapter. I have been dealing with several health issues and am still in quite a bit of pain. The good news is that the remaining chapters of this story have been plotted and I am committed to seeing this to the end.

I normally don’t do this, but a review came in asking who 7 of 9 is. The short answer is: 7 of 9 is a female character from Star Trek: Voyager show who wore tight clothes.

{-37-}

“Are you sure this will work?” a man wearing black robes and a silver mask asked of his compatriot.

“Our lord knows all there is about magic. As long as we mean Potter no ill will now, we can get past those blood wards. Then we just have to convince him to come with us and once past the wards, he is ours. Bwah-hah-hah-hah!”

“No evil laughing!” shouted the man up front.

“Sorry Lucius!”

“Is this the place, rat?!”

“Yes, Lucius,” Pettigrew sneered back at the blond ponce, only to realize no one would see the sneer since it was behind a mask. What a waste of a good sneer, Peter thought as Lucius banged on the door with his cane.

Moments later Harry Potter came to the door to see 12 individuals in Halloween costumes on his front porch. “You guys know it isn’t Halloween for another few months, right?”

“Uh, yes,” announced a person Harry had never heard before. “We wanted to get a jump on the competition.”

Harry nodded at that. “I guess. Wait here. I’ll get some treats.”

The DEs watched from the porch as Harry walked back to the kitchen and then came back with a bag of candy. He handed out a few dark chocolate yummies to the crummies.

“I got a dark chocolate rice,” one individual said.

“So what? Mine is Special Dark.”

“Did anyone get some Bertie Botts every flavor bean? I’ll trade.”

Lucius nearly face-faulted. Stick to the plan, stick to the plan…

“Say, uh, young man. We are going to put on a magic show and are wondering if you can give us some pointers as we have heard you go to a magic school.”

“You heard I went to a magic school, eh?”

“Uh, yes, young man. It’s common knowledge.”

“Right. Uh-huh. Sure, what the heck. You wait here while I get my coat. Be right back.”

Harry again left the door open and the DEs saw him walk to a cupboard under the stairs and retrieve a coat. He put the coat on and headed back to the front door.

“This is going to work,” whispered one DE to another.

HP felt his pockets on the coat and noticed that his secret weapon was still there. Good.

They all left, walking a few blocks away, past what their lord had informed them were the boundaries of the ward lines for that neighborhood.

One individual went ahead and called for the Knight Bus. As Harry and the rest of them walked around the corner, the bus was there to take them to the docks in Brighton.

“Sure thing,” agreed Stan, collecting the fares.

“I want a bed to lay down on,” Harry told one of the DEs as soon as he saw the bed.

“No,” replied the DE stiffly.

“Why not?”

“It costs too much.”

“So? I want to lay down,” Harry pointed at the bed.

“Just sit down on a chair,” another DE grumbled.

“No. I either lay down there, or I go home and lay down on my bed.”

Grumble. “Fine. Pay the extra, Avery, and let’s get on our way.”

“Oy, that’s our last bed it is. Gonna cost extra. More if’n you want clean sheets,” Stan said.

“He’ll pay extra for the clean sheets,” Harry instructed.

“That Potter is going to pay for this,” Avery muttered while paying the inflated price for the bed with clean sheets.

Harry slept until they arrived about 15 minutes later. Stan let them all off and the bus took off again. Harry looked at the docks. There was a warehouse the guys all went to. It is dark. It is creepy. Then one of them turned on a light and a stage lit up. There were a lot of magic props up there Harry could see.

“You’ve been fooled, Potter!” cackled the man with the cane as he ripped off his robes and mask. “You are not here to give us your expertise of magic!”

“You don’t say,” Harry deadpanned.

“Exactly! We are here at our lord’s bidding to prove to you once and for all that magic is real. And we can prove it!”

“Better people than you have tried doing that for years, loser,” Harry smirked.

The rest of the Death Eaters took off their disguises. Lucius Malfoy strode forward and took the side steps to the top of the stage. “Magic is real!”

“Let me guess – you guys are going to try the spoon bending trick, right?”

“Spoon bending?” Pettigrew cocked his eyebrow.

“I know that trick! You take a coin and pretend it is part of the spoon, then sort of bend the spoon and remove the coin so it looks like you are taking the spoon apart, right? Easy stuff. How is that magic, loser? That’s just sleight of hand!”

“We’re going to show you real magic, Potter!” Lucius insisted.

“Sure you are pal. Say, are you guys going to try the static cigarette trick?”

“Hwah?”

“You know, Lay a cigarette on a table and then explain to the people around the table about the art of static electricity.”

Lucius looked at his cohorts. “What is that brat talking about? Static ekelectrickitifcity? Bah, he is delirious!”

Harry continued on, not having heard Lucius. “Then you pull up your sleeve and rub your forearm vigorously. Then, putting your fingertips on the far side of the cigarette, pull your fingers slowly away from the cigarette. The cigarette will follow your fingers like a magnet. Only, this can be done by cupping your hand slightly in front of the cigarette and the cigarette will come towards you. Is that the magic you are going to show today?”

“Listen up, Potter! We are going to show you real magic! Not tricks!”

“That’ll be the day!” Harry grinned at the loon.

Lucius seethed for a moment. “Fine. Be that way. We’ll just have to force it on you then.”

“What kind of show is this?” Harry inquired. “Are you guys trying to start a magic show for the BBC? Are you planning on taking this on tour?”

“Our Lord has requested that you be brought into the secret knowledge of magic before he takes your life,” Lucius gloated, preparing a table on the stage.

“Like the Masons?” Harry yelled up to him. “Hey where can I get some popcorn? Or ripe fruit?”

“Bring Potter forth!” Lucius commanded.

“Forget it! I’m not helping you on stage. You guys suck! I’m staying seated here! Loser!” Harry took a seat on one of the 200 folding chairs in the warehouse.

Lucius resisted face palming, as his anger purpled his face. He tried frantic mental exercises to lower his blood pressure before his head popped off. After a few minutes of deep breathing, he turned back to his audience and proclaimed, “Since some insufferable brats don’t have the backbone to come up on stage, we will have to prove magic is real this way. Clyde! On stage!”

“Um, Lucius, I’m holding onto Potter down here. How about someone else?”

“No one ever warned me there would be days like this,” Lucius muttered loud enough for everyone to hear. “Fine. Pettigrew! On stage!”

“Um,” Pettigrew started.

“No sniveling! Get up on stage, you rat! Now!”

The short, balding, lumpy man slowly walked the aisle and up the stairs to the stage. His eyes looking at the floor, he shuffled his way over to Lucius. “What do you need me to do? Transfigure something? I didn’t get as good of grades in that subject as others, but I can still transform a button to a beetle. Or a button to another button. Maybe.”

“Quiet! Okay, Potter, here is how we will prove magic is real. Bring me… the box!”

Two other men masked in silver and black ran from the side of the stage, bringing a tall vertical box that Harry could see was cut into thirds. They presented the box with a flourish of good pizazz and left the stage. Lucius opened all three smaller boxes and said, “Inside.”

“But…”

“Now, rat!” Pettigrew walked into the box and tried to turn around. It was a tight fit and he couldn’t turn around.

“Try backing in, you old loser!” Harry yelled up at the “magicians”, eating some popcorn.

Pettigrew got out of the box and then turned around, moving backwards to wedge himself in the box. “Ooohhhffff. Can’t you make this any bigger?”

“Quiet! Now as you can see, Potter, the old rat is in the box. I will simply close the doors and you can see his foot in the bottom box, his hand in the middle box, and his face in the top box.”

“Let me guess,” Harry jeered. “You are going to separate him into three smaller boxes and rearrange him, right? That’s been done.”

“It’s been done?” Lucius wondered.

“Yeah, pops! It’s been done by everyone in the world! You guys suck!”

“Oh yeah, you little cretin?! Well, you try to stand up here and prove magic is real! See how you like it!”

“Magic isn’t real, loser! Hey, if you are going to try to convince me that magic is real, why don’t you saw that fat man in half?!”

“You would trivialize the magic that we can do with a request to saw the rat in half?”

“You can’t do it, can you? Boo! Booooooo! This show sucks!”

Lucius was moments away from responding when it happened.

It.

It happened.

Lucius was smacked in his black-robe wearing chest with a rotten tomato.

He looked down at his chest. The smelly, half-spattered tomato slid down a few centimeters and then fell to the floor with a spluch sound.

“Avery! Goyle! Put the rat on a table and get me a saw!”

“No!”

“Quiet, rat!”

Pettigrew struggled to get out of the box he was in, but he was stuck, like, well, a rat. A fat rat.

The two silver and black assistants ran onto the stage and with a flourish, moved Pettigrew from a standing position to a laying position on a table. Pettigrew tried to open the panels of the boxes he was in. One of the assistants smacked him with a rolled up newspaper.

One assistant ran off stage and then back on, this time holding a huge saw, the kind used by lumberjacks.

“As you can see, this is a firm blade, very sharp,” Lucius started.

“How do I know it’s not made of rubber?!” Harry yelled, and threw some popcorn on the stage.

Lucius smacked the blade onto one of his assistants, where it promptly cut off a body part – Harry wasn’t sure which one since they were wearing black robes, but the man instantly dropped to the stage to find the missing part and run off to do something with it.

“Satisfied, you brat?”

“Let’s see the fat old man get cut in half, then I’ll be satisfied. And put some more acting into this – you aren’t very good at doing a show, you know that?”

“Noooooo!”

“Quiet, rat! You! Take this handle while I take this side!”

The blade was put above a panicking Pettigrew.

Saw, saw, saw, saw…

“Noooooo! Aaaaiiiiieeeeee!”

“Someone quiet this old rat down!” Lucius demanded. “Put some more back into it!”

Saw, saw, saw, saw…

“Aaaiiiiieeeee! Gurgle… gurgle…”

Saw, saw, saw, saw…

“And we’re through! We’ve sawed a man in half, Potter! Do you believe that magic is real now?”

“How do I know you sawed him in half? Pull him apart!”

Lucius snapped his fingers at his assistant and with Lucius by the head, and the assistant by the feet, they pulled the table apart.

Pettigrew fell out of the box. Both parts of him fell out of the box. The top part and bottom part.

“You sawed that guy in half!” Harry stood up.

“Of course I did! I said I would.”

“How the hell is that a magic trick?”

“We used an enchanted blade, of course. See? It’s still sharp.”

“He’s dead, you numbskulls!”

“Uh… he’s merely resting. Avery, hisst! Put him back together.”

“Me? You sawed him in half,” the assistant crossed his arms.

Harry looked around, searching for the nearest phone. He had minders to call. These weirdoes really needed to be put back in their padded cells.

Harry started to move to the aisle when one of the four stooges next to him put a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Sit back down, Potter!”

“Blow it out your ear, doofus. I’m calling the men in white to take you back to your cells.”

“What? Never mind, you’re not going anywhere,” one stooge sneered, trying to force Harry back into his seat.

Harry never liked to be manhandled, and reached into his jacket.

“You nut jobs going to let me find a phone, or do I have to teach you a lesson?”

“Look out, he’s reaching for his wand!” the lead stooge said.

“Accio wand!” stooge #2 incanted. Obviously, nothing happened.

The stooges looked at Harry with wide eyes. “You don’t have a wand?” the lead stooge said.

“Wand? Of course not! I’m not that insane, doofus!”

“Then what are you holding in your pocket?” inquired stooge #3.

“This!” Harry pulled out Mr. Rock and pelted all four of the goons around him in the head, knocking them out. Once the stooges were taken care of, Harry left to find a phone.

A few minutes later, the goons woke up, and noticed their prisoner had vanished. As if by magic!

“Uh, Lucius?”

“What? I’m a little busy up here! Avery, try to put those… thingies around his stomach…”

“Potter’s gone!”

“What do you mean, he’s gone?!”

“He, uh, wandlessly disarmed us and then apparated away!”

“Crap! Okay, boys, let’s exit this place before he brings the Aurors in!”

“What about Pettigrew?”

“What about him? Never liked the little rat anyway,” Lucius kicked the saw out of the way and headed for the exit.

{-37-}

The metro police had a very interesting weekend. First, they got a tip of a murder, and found said victim sawed in half. If that weren’t the end of it, since it was a ghastly way to die, the press turned out in droves to take pictures and interview each other for the best sound bite. This, of course, meant it went to air that evening and throughout the weekend.

That could have been the end of it since Pettigrew was not of the mundane world, and had no records there, but for one simple fact. Friday night found Remus Lupin at a watering hole eating some greasy fish and chips while watching the evening news. He recognized Pettigrew immediately. This in turn was reported to Amelia. Who in turn brought it to Rufus, and a pardon for Sirius Black, wanted criminal, was sent out.

{-37-}

**Several days later:**

St. Mungo’s had seen their fair share of problems recently. If it wasn’t one thing, it would always be something else. That was the way with the magical world. So it was no surprise that 11 angry men turned up in the reception area, all complaining about one thing.

Bad teeth.

Hey, they were British, so bad teeth was virtually guaranteed.

Only, these 11 individuals were all grown men and should have known better than to eat candy and not brush. Yet, like true dunderheads, they skipped the required brushing and now they were at the hospital for treatment.

Fortunately, Dr. Swisl had an opening and ushered them all into his office.

His nurse had them fill out paperwork, used by all wizards and muggles alike, to get a history of their brushing habits. She nearly laughed when reading their answers. They were such purebloods in their replies. As if blood could keep away cavities.

Hour after hour went by and soon Dr. Swisl had the last four men seated around the conference table. “I’m sure you are wondering why you are here and not heading home like your friends,” he started.

Moan. Groan. Ache. Misery.

“Yes, quite. Well, you four ended up with holes in your teeth because you all ate muggle candy and forgot to brush your teeth, and unfortunately there is only so much wizarding magic can do for you. Your problems are stemming from muggle sugar, and it is resistant to magical cures.”

“Meaning what, doc?” the lead stooge said, his hands trying to diminish the throbbing in his jaw.

“You four need to see a muggle healer, a dentist. I have a referral. You are very lucky. He can get you in today. Pay the nurse on your way out.”

They shuffled out and caught the Knight Bus to another part of England. They soon entered an office building and went to the third floor and announced to the receptionist that they were there to see the dentist.

Minutes later, Dan Granger, noticing they were all wearing robes like her daughter wore to school, had the first man sitting in the dentist chair.

“So Healer Swisl tells me you are all purebloods,” Dan started, picking at the man’s teeth.

Wince. Pain. Agony. “Araraaaggga aaagagarrrra arrrrragagaga,” the goon replied, which Dan easily translated to human speech (We are all purebloods, thank you very much, you muggle. Now get on with my teeth.)

Dan smiled at this wonderful opportunity. “Sure thing, your worshipfulness. Say, do you want to be sedated like us lowly muggles or do you want to prove how tough you purebloods are?”

“Avvrarageaset, arrarrgggllllyyy, aaaiiiiii,” replied said goon. Translated, he said: I’ll show you how tough we are, muggle.

Dan grinned. “Got it. Okay, one screaming special, coming up.”

And there was much screaming to be had by the Death Eater. Fortunately Dan had talked with some of his daughter’s friends parents and they had agreed to help him out at his practice several years ago by putting up silencing wards around his drill room.

The other Death Eaters never saw it coming.

{-37-}

Several days after that:

The four Death Eaters (Clyde, Dennis, Roger, and Butch) had all become fast friends over the last few days, well, friends in one respect for as they say, misery loves company, and all four were in a lot of misery after going to that muggle dentist… Anyway, the four friends were all in some serious need of coin since for some reason they had misplaced all their ready cash. Strange that.

So off to Gringotts they went. Nothing like putting the goblin beasts back in their place to cheer them up.

They stomped up the stairs, winced at the sight of a child eating a chocolate frog, and marched up to the line waiting to see the tellers. Then they waited. And waited.

And for good measure, waited some more as the line they were in went to a teller who put up a sign stating “Gone to Lunch” as they were next to approach. The line behind them quickly jumped to another open teller and the four goons had to go back to the end of the line and wait all over again.

Eventually, a goblin clerk motioned them forward.

“Do you four wizards need something?” the clerk eyed the wizards.

“We want money, you cur. Take us to our vaults!” Clyde said for all the men.

“And make it quick, wretch! We’re important and busy men!” Butch put in, rubbing his chin.

“You tell him, Clyde,” Roger agreed with the first man.

Dennis said nothing and instead just rubbed his jaw.

The goblin clerk looked at the four men a little more closely. They were all wearing a strange cloth around their face that went from the tops of their heads to under their chins, almost as if they’d seen a muggle dentist… about a hundred years ago.

“Keys?” the clerk monotoned.

They handed them to the goblin. He looked at the keys, his eyes opening a little more than normal.

“Follow me,” the clerk instructed, jumping to the floor and walking away from the other customers.

The four stooges followed as he led them to an office off the side of the lobby.

“Why aren’t we going to the carts?” Dennis finally said something.

“There is an irregularity we need to deal with first, wizard. This way, please.”

“See that it is handled properly, goblin!” Butch sneered. Or tried to but wincing and sneering didn’t go together very well.

“Oh, it will be, wizard. It will be. In here, sirs,” the clerk smiled at the wizards.

The four wizards entered a dark room. “It’s dark,” Clyde pointed out.

“Ah, yes, quite right. Lights!” the clerk announced as he shut the door behind the wizards.

Lights started to come on. Then more and more lights. The room they thought they were in turned out to be a very large room. Large enough to easily contain about 30 other goblins, who were all cracking their joints, stretching their necks, and putting on brass knuckles.

“What is going on here, goblin?” Clyde grumbled.

“My supervisor wants to have some words with you,” the clerk stated, motioning behind the wizards.

They turned and noticed another goblin, about the same size, wearing a tailored suit unlike the rest of the goblins who looked like they brought their favorite clubs, knives, and whips with them.

“Right you are, Skullcrusher. I am supervisor Blade. Wizards, your keys are tainted.”

“What do you mean, tainted?” Dennis inquired.

“There is a certain, shall we say, presence coating them,” the supervisor grinned.

“Then untaint them!” Roger instructed.

The supervisor looked at the keys now in his hands. “Oh, we intend to. Have no fear about that.”

Surprisingly, Dennis now had a new thought. “Uh… how did they get tainted?”

“Funny you should ask, wizard. It appears that several days ago you ran afoul of Mr. Rock. Now interesting story with Mr. Rock. She has her favorite wizards, and she also has her not-so-favorite wizards. And it appears that one Mr. Harry Potter is her current favorite wizard.”

“The punk that hit us in the head with the rock the other day?” Butch pointed out.

“That would be the one,” supervisor Blade smiled. “And since the Goblin Nation is indebted to Mr. Rock for past actions over the millennia, she has our respect as well as our allegiance. And I’m sure you wizards can see where this is going…

“That we are going to get new keys and go to our vaults?” Clyde replied.

“Oh, ho, ho, ho, you wizards are so funny. No, per agreement 1053-A, subsection 2 of the original charter with the Ministry of Magic, any attack on Mr. Rock is an attack on the Goblin Nation and will be retaliated in full until the perpetrators have paid full restitution,” supervisor Blade looked around the room as the other goblins were done loosening up.

“We’ll pay restitution!” Dennis spat out.

Supervisor Blade nodded at that. “Yes, you will. Your vaults were seized, a notice has been sent to the Ministry, and now we get to the remaining restitution. Mr. Rock and our leaders over the years have agreed on one thing. You hurt us, we’ll destroy you. Boys? Let loose the dogs of war!”

“AAAAAAAHHHHHHH! Dogs!” screamed Clyde and Butch.

Supervisor Blade tried to alleviate their confusion. “Well, not literally, wizards. No dogs in here, see? It’s just an expression.”

“An expression? What does it mean?” Roger wondered.

“Funny you should ask, wizard. It means…” and supervisor Blade looked around to the grinning group of goblin thugs “…begin.”

The horde whooped in glee and rushed the four wizards who found that in this magically-suppressed room, their wands didn’t work. Pity them.

“AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!” screamed Roger, Clyde, Butch, and Dennis.

{-37-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	39. Chapter 38: The Vanishing Cabinet part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 6

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-38-}

It was late at night. Actually, it was after curfew, but that didn’t mean much to those in Slytherin. They could come and go as they please. Their head of house would see to it they had nothing to worry about.

So it was at this late time of the night, nearing the point when it would become early morning, when Draco dragged himself into the Slytherin common room, his hands taped up in an obvious attempt to do it himself.

Harry noticed the blond ponce stumble to the nearest couch (the one he was currently on) and plop himself down (unfortunately, right next to him).

Harry kept reading his book on the origins of the telegraph. If he couldn’t get a phone to work up here, he was going to get something if it was the last thing he did.

“Sigh,” sighed the blond boy.

Harry ignored him and continued reading. The rest of the common room did the same.

“Sigh,” sighed the blond boy louder.

Crap. He wasn’t going to stop until asked what happened. Bloody drama queen.

“All right, Draco. What is it?”

“I bet you are wondering about my hands,” he started.

“Not really,” Harry replied simply. “But you bloody well won’t let me back to my book until I say I’m interested. So talk already. What the heck happened to your fingers?”

“Can you keep a secret?” Draco whispered.

“What do you think? I’ve kept your secret for years.”

“What are you talking about? What secret?” Draco said.

“It’s a secret so secret, you instructed me to never repeat it to you, no matter what. You said it would save your life one day.”

“Oh, right. Uh. Yeah,” Draco agreed. “That secret.”

Harry rolled his eyes at how easy it was to buffalo the inmates. “So what is your latest secret?”

“I’m not sure I should tell you,” Draco started.

“Maybe it will save your life,” Harry prompted.

“Hey, yeah. Okay. Here it is. He who must not be named has a Vanishing Cabinet at his place.”

“Yeah? So?”

“There is a matching one here, only it is in pieces.” Draco paused for effect.

“Yeah? So?”

“So, I have to match up all the splinters to the cabinet one by one to make sure that the Vanishing cabinet still works. I can’t use magic to do this, so it is very tedious work.”

“Yeah? So?”

“So once I match up the wood pieces, I then have to glue them in place. This is a lot of work. I mean, I can’t even call for our house elf to do it since you can’t use magic.”

“Yeah? So?”

“So, there are a lot of splinters. And the glue is sticky and I have to pull it off my fingers all the time.”

Harry vacillated between asking the obvious or just looking at Draco as if he were plain stupid. His first inclination won out. “Dude, haven’t you ever heard of duck tape?”

“Wha?” Draco managed after thinking of what type of species of duck a duck tape was.

“Look, just where are you doing this smashing fix-up job? Behind Hagrid’s hut?”

“Uh, no. I can’t tell you. It’s a secret.”

“You’ve already told me part of this secret, remember? How am I going to prove that it is going to save your life if you don’t tell me?”

“Um, I’m not sure…” Draco waffled.

“Okay, okay. You don’t have to tell me. But if you do, then you can pay me for helping you, we get this cabinet taken care of, you get your nights free again, and you can spend that extra free time massaging your fingers.”

Harry watched Draco struggle with the concept.

Inwardly, Draco struggled with the concept. His father had given him the task of getting this done months ago but it was going ever so slowly. If he didn’t get it done soon, there would be consequences… bad consequences. He really did need the help. He could get Potter to swear an oath of silence or something.

“Okay, Potter, I’ll tell you. It’s on the 7th floor…”

“You mean you’re putting together a cabinet in the holodeck?!” Harry exclaimed.

“Wha?” Draco stammered.

“C’mon, let’s go look at this pile of crap,” Harry grinned as he grabbed Draco by the Slytherin’s robes and pulled him to his feet, then towards the common room exit.

Had Draco not struggled so much in Harry’s grasp, they might not have attracted so much attention. Then again, probably not.

“Hey, Draco, Harry,” Tracy yelled. “Where are you two tossers going?” She was sitting on a crowded couch near other crowded furniture with plenty of other students doing assignments, plotting revenge on everyone not in Slytherin, and basically plotting to take over the world without the help of a henchowl.

“Nowhere!” Draco retorted.

Harry turned to the group looking at the two guys leaving the room. “To the holodeck! Draco’s working on a supposed Vanishing cabinet for a class project. I’m going to introduce him to duck tape. And no ducks were harmed making it. You wanna see it?”

As one, about 12 Slytherins replied, “Sure!”

Draco groaned as about 20 Slytherins trooped up to the 7th floor (Draco never was that good in math). They got to the top floor and Harry a few seconds later forced the holodeck door to show up instead of a wooden door. Harry was grinning happily as everyone made their way in.

There was a lot of debris to sift through. “Okay, where is that cabine… oh, there it is. Man, what a piece of crap. Okay, Greg, Vince, you grab those edges and make sure this thing doesn’t move. Draco, where are the other… oh, there they are. Okay, everybody, grab a piece and put it on the cabinet. Let me know when you’ve matched up a piece and I’ll tape it down.”

Draco hedged, “I’m not sure…”

“Got one!” Tracey announced to the side of Harry.

WWWHHHCK, went the duck tape that somehow materialized in Harry’s hands.

“Here’s another!” Daphne said.

WWWHHHCK!

“I managed to find two,” Theo said smugly.

WWWHHHCK! WWWHHHCK!

“Slacker. I found three,” Millicent smirked.

WWWHHHCK! WWWHHHCK! WWWHHHCK!

The students, finding that this was enjoyable not only to work on a magical project, but for some reason it also aggravated Draco to no end, went to town getting the pieces put on the cabinet. In less than two hours, they had finished with the cabinet. True, it wasn’t a fine brown lacquer finish what with its six rolls of silver duck tape slapped to all the nooks, crevices, and gashes in the cabinet, but it was assembled.

Mostly.

Harry kept the Pansy’s comment to himself. Pansy’s comment of: “Sorry, Harry, but I think I broke this piece some more and lost the rest down the loo when I had to go a few minutes ago. What can we do?” To which, Harry had replied, “Ah, just line it up and put some dirt in the rest of the hole. With the duck tape, no one will ever notice.”

“Great job, everyone! Okay, Draco, so what does this piece of crap do anyway?”

“As usual, Potter, your lack of knowing anything about the magical world shows again. This is a Vanishing cabinet. This cabinet and the one it is connected to will allow a person to go into one cabinet and come out the other cabinet.”

“Hey, I’ve seen tricks like that at magician shows. There’s a fake door on the back, eh?”

“No! It really works!” Draco insisted.

“Hmmm, maybe a transporter then?” Harry rubbed his chin as he thought about the possibilities.

“I don’t know if that is going to work now,” Blaise commented at the sight of the cabinet.

“Why not? It’s great. Here. I’ll prove that this is just a transporter.”

Harry opened the hastily cobbled together cabinet door, now half silver in color, and went in.

“Hey, Potter, that’s not…” Draco attempted.

But it is too late. Harry was gone.

{-38-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	40. Chapter 39: The Vanishing Cabinet part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 6

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-39-}

Harry knew that working with mentally unbalance kids that believed in magic had a certain amount of danger involved. But he had to do what he could to show them that they were just delusional. Otherwise, why would he have jumped into a mostly silver-patched wardrobe?

Harry closed the door behind him and figuring he had given them enough time to wonder if it was going to work, he opened the door again. He stepped out into a dark room.

“Hmm, I guess everyone left,” Harry surmised. He stepped out of the wardrobe entirely and lights started to come on.

Harry had a thought. He clapped his hands twice and the lights went off.

He clapped his hands two more times and they came back on. “Huh. How about that. Something sensible at long last.”

A door opened near Harry and in entered the weirdo he wanted to see the least. “My wards told me the cabinet now works, young Draco. Well don… You’re not Draco.”

“Well deduced, Captain Obvious.”

“Potter,” the escapee spat. “At long last, I have you defenseless and at my mercy,” he gloated.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, you’re going to reveal your nefarious plan to me now, right?”

“But of course,” the evil man/creature smirked. “It was, after all, a cunning plan.”

“Whatever you say, Baldrick.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Just continue on, would you? I need to finish my homework and get to bed. I have classes tomorrow. Or later today,” he commented after checking his watch.

“It was a cunning plan I have to admit,” Voldemort started.

“Can we get on with it? We’ve already covered that!”

“Fine. It started at the beginning of the school year. I had young Draco’s father instruct his child to find and repair the vanishing cabinet that was in the Room of Lost Things. Then, once it was complete, I would have my legions of Death Eaters troop through the cabinet and invade Hogwarts, raining destruction down on the students and staff, and especially Dumbledore!”

Voldemort looked at his audience. Harry looked back.

“That’s it? That was your cunning plan?”

“Well, when you say it like that,” Voldemort started.

“Let’s look at this plan logically, shall we?” Harry started walking back and forth. “First, you have a cabinet as your entrance into the castle. Why you don’t just take a bus up the path to the entrance, get out, and ring the doorbell, I’ll never know. Fine. You want to use a cabinet. Now answer me this. Does the cabinet have a bottom?”

“Um, well I guess it does,” Voldemort surmised.

“For your information, it does. It is elevated off the floor about four inches. Now, how strong do you think that bottom is? Do you think it can hold the weight of a full grown individual? Don’t you think it will crack or break?”

“Um, yes?” Voldemort wasn’t sure.

“So to go with your ‘magical’ theory, you gain access to the castle through a cabinet that will break as soon as the first adult goes through it. So your invading army is how big? One person?”

“Um,” Voldemort started again.

“Plus! If I understand all of this correctly, you gave this project to the kid with the worst grades in school. And! It wasn’t even for extra credit!”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Voldemort started pulling his fingers in a nervous habit.

Harry gazed at the bozo. “Look, I know the school is run by an insane old guy, but are you vying for his job? Are you really wanting to take over for him as lead insane guy?”

“Well…” Voldemort wasn’t sure on that.

“Because you sure are acting like you want to take over the top dog spot,” Harry pointed out.

Voldemort’s ire rose to that. “Oh, a wise guy, eh? Listen, you’ll never understand what it’s like to be under constant pressure to be a dark lord. All the scheming and plotting. It takes time! Plus the constant attempts on your life from your underlings, why it is enough to make a grown man cry!”

“Really? That’s your excuse?” Harry shot back, hands on his hips.

“You just don’t get it! I’m… why am I explaining this to you? You’ll bow down to me soon enough after a few crucios are applied, Potter! Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk!”

“Oh no you don’t!” Harry pointed out, then poked Voldemort in the eyes.

“Woo-woo-woo-woo!” Voldemort cried out, his hands going to his injured eyes.

Seeing an opening, Harry then smacked Voldemort on his ears. Whack!

“Nyaaaaaahhhhhhh!” Voldemort cried out, his hands now going to sooth the injured ears.

Harry then punched the evil clown in the gut.

“Ooofff!” Voldemort bent over. A moment later, he stood back up, glared daggers at Harry and with his hands on his hips, grunted out, “HRRRRRRMPH!”

“That’s what all the bad guys typically say,” Harry smirked back.

“Rrrowf! Rrrowf!” Voldemort barked at Harry.

After experiencing so much of the loonies over the last six years, Harry normally didn’t even bat an eye when they did something new that was odd. But he was still curious. “Why are you barking at me?” Harry inquired.

“Someone has to do it since you blew up my favorite barker,” he answered truthfully.

“Favorite barker?”

“Bella, Potter! Pay attention!”

“Oh. Her.” Harry then went to poke Voldemort in the eyes again, but was blocked by Voldemort putting his hand up to stop Harry’s two fingers from impacting his eyes.

“Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk,” Voldemort chortled merrily.

Harry was quick on the uptake and immediately grabbed the red nose and yanked down.

Voldemort got his balance back almost immediately and shouted, “Stop doing that!”

“Okay,” Harry agreed. “How is this instead?” Harry picked up a bottle of water with a funny top on it that just happened to be on a table within hand’s reach and shot Voldemort with a spritz of water.

“MMMMMRRRRMMMMPHHHH!” Voldemort ground out after wiping the water out of his eyes.

He opened his eyes to see Harry shove a lemon-cream pie into his face (a pie that had been on the same table as the bottle of water for some reason).

“I’m a victim of soicumstance!” Voldemort managed to get out between the cream pie clogging his nose and most of his mouth.

“True. You are. You’re also a nut job.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh yeah?!”

“Yeah! What are you going to do about it, you numbskull?”

“I will destroy you, Potter! I am invincible!”

“You’re a jerk,” Harry countered, reaching to his back pocket.

Face filled with lemon cream, Voldemort still gripped his wand and shouted, “Accio Harry’s wand!”

Nothing happened.

Harry looked at the evil escapee. “Wand? I don’t believe in that crap, remember?”

Voldemort half chuckled in embarrassment and said, “Oh yeah. Then what do you believe in?”

“This.” Harry then pulled out a short metal stick the length of a wand, flicked his wrist which had the metal pole extends 2 feet out, and then pressed it into Voldemort’s stomach.

Voldemort wasn’t too concerned with this proceeding. It was a last ditch effort by Potter. What could he do? He didn’t even have a wand!

The metal pole, as soon as it touched Voldemort, sparked with power and knocked the evil goon out.

“Jerk,” Harry shook his head at the down escapee.

“Hiss, hiss, hiss,” hissed something very close.

Harry looked around and saw a snake making its way towards him. “Another animatronic? Geez, this guy goes all out.”

A few minutes later, Harry looked at the cabinet and entered it, thinking of how to get back to his fellow students. He closed the door, then opened it back up and found he was back in the holodeck.

Harry exited the cabinet and grabbed a roll of duck tape whereupon he started taping the cabinet closed.

“Did you see our lord?” Draco questioned.

Still working, Harry replied, “Meet Christ? Heck no, I met an albino, red-nosed a-hole that barked at me.”

Draco’s eyes softened. “Blunky the Clown? You met Blunky?”

“Who?” Harry said after finishing the tape job.

“He was the clown at my birthday parties when I was growing up,” Draco supplied.

“Uhhh, yeah. Sure. It might have been him.”

“See, I told you that duct tape wouldn’t work,” Blaise pointed out.

“Hmm, you could be right. I think it needs a new color of duct tape. Let’s try Hot Pink! Draco, you’ll need to make a robe out of the Hot Pink duct tape for it to work right the next time you use it,” Harry instructed with authority.

“You think so?” Draco was unsure.

“I guarantee it’ll work for you,” Harry pointed out.

Draco nodded his head. “Thanks, Potter. I’ll do that. You’re not too bad, for a half-blood.”

“You are welcome, Draco, you spineless inbred dink.”

{-39-}

The next morning found Harry, Hermione and Blaise in a classroom, discussing what happened the previous night. Harry recounted his encounter with the evil red-haired clown and what he did to him, including the pie, water, poking eyes, and punching him in the gut.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione showed her concern. “That sounds awful. How did you get away?”

“Oh that was easy. He tried to accio my so-called wand…”

“Which you hardly ever carry on you…” Blaise pointed out.

“Right, so nothing happened. Then I showed him my new toy from the twins. This!” Harry glowed with pride as he pulled out the metal tube and extended it.

Blaise looked at it critically. “What is that?”

“I’m not sure either,” Hermione kept looking at the rod.

Harry grinned and touched the waste can with it, zapping it across the room.

“Great Merlin!” Blaise startled.

“Heh-heh. It’s a cattle prod. The twins did a good job – the battery lasts a long time and it has a nice kick,” Harry grinned like a loon.

“Where did that come from?” Hermione questioned.

Harry smiled at his friends. “Oh, I won a bet with the twins a few years ago and this is what I got out of it. They finally got it finished for me.”

{-39-}

And thus ends Year 6.

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Note: you will have to wait to see the fate of Nagani as it plays a role in a later chapter.

Steve2


	41. Chapter 40: Horrible Crutches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 7

New chapter by Steve2

Finally, the last year of this story. What will happen during this pivotal year? Any guesses? I’ve been enjoying the comments – please keep them coming. I like the guesses everyone is making.

My apologies for the lateness of this chapter. Real life has taken over, and I have been training new team members on my project. I am also looking into my next writing project. There are some possibilities I am pursuing.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-40-}

Journal entry 756: I had my usual start of term encounter with Headmaster Dumbledore. He still hasn’t gotten around to shaving off his beard. As usual, he tried his start of year indoctrination spiel with me, going on and on about how magic is great and magic is this and magic is that. If magic is so great, I asked, how come I can’t use a phone up here? I showed him my new cell phone Aunt Petunia got me. Well, actually Sirius got it for me and gave it to Aunt Petunia to give to me since he doesn’t have the foggiest idea of how it works. Once I get through the instruction manual, I’ll give it back to him and explain how it works instead of sucking down soot when sticking your head in a bloody fire! Magic is great? Give me a break.

I need to keep documenting these meetings and all other happenings here at Hogwarts. If I hadn’t started writing in this journal as a way to keep me sane, as well as recount the day’s crazy activities (always good for a laugh), I’d never have proof for the eventual lawsuit I’m going to bring against the department of education for placing me in this nut house. I must not laugh at the inmates. I must not laugh at the inmates.

But it is so hard to do…

{-40-}

Journal entry 772: Headmaster Dumbledore brought me up to his office today. Another indoctrination speech is what I was thinking. This time it was something different. This time he showed home movies. He showed me how when he was younger he tried to kidnap kids from orphanages with his spiel of “magic is wondrous” and that rot. When I asked him how he was going to explain his actions to a board of inquiry once I finished my report, I think I then found out his reasoning and motivation.

Its speech problems! He has terrible diction. It must have affected him at a young age. He kept going on about the evilness of horrible crutches and how Voldemort (the current insane asylum escapee who looks like a rogue clown) has several of them. Possibly seven horrible crutches. I do not understand these inmate thought processes. Why would someone want horrible crutches, let alone seven of them? I asked that of the Headmaster.

His response? He spouted some garbage that in making the horrible crutches made the escaped inmate immortal. Obviously, that was just par for the course in this crazy lunatic bin. Still, I told him that was crazy talk and that all horrible crutches did was give people bad posture. The Headmaster then laid a doozy on me. He said it was my destiny to confront this Voldemort clown and rid the world of him.

Destinies are a funny thing. You might have one, and you might make one for yourself. This insane old coot saying I had to rid the world of this evil clown as my destiny – that made me think. There were many ways to rid the world of evil. There were small evils and big evils. This education I was getting… well, don’t get me started on that. I told the Headmaster I needed to think on it and let him know my decision.

So I returned to my room and gave it some thought. I wished I could have called a psychic hotline for advice. I was actually able to do that before boarding the train last September 1st. I was actually getting good at divining what kind of knickers the lady on the other end was wearing before the battery died. Anyway, I gave this problem some thought. And then I had it! It was so obvious! I would do it!

{-40-}

“…so that’s what I’m thinking of doing,” Harry smiled at the two ladies in front of him after he explained his plan to them.

Luna and Hermione looked at Harry for a moment, then at each other, and then back at Harry.

“Are you sure that is what the Headmaster said, Harry?” Luna confirmed. “Or did he say horcruxes?”

“Yeah, that’s what he said! Horrible crutches!” Harry remembered.

“So let me get this straight,” Hermione confirmed. “You have heard the Dark Clown has horrible crutches and figure that if you can get him good crutches, then he will quit being evil. Right?”

“Right!” Harry smiled back, glad they were onboard with his plan.

“I think that is a wonderful idea, Harry!” Luna beamed, kissing him on the cheek. “Why don’t Hermione and I get working on the box for you while you get some good crutches to send to that madman.”

“Great idea, Luna. I’m on it!” Harry left them and headed for the infirmary.

Moments after Harry left, Hermione looked at her younger friend and said, “Luna… just curious. What benefit is sending a madman good crutches going to bring?”

“Oh, there are many benefits, Hermione. It’s a peace offering. It means a lot in the wizarding world. These types of offerings are always able to bypass the aversion wards dark wizards put around themselves. This is a good thing. Say, you wouldn’t know how to put together a little… trinitrotoluene would you?

Hermione’s eyes grew wide.

{-40-}

While Luna and Hermione spent time in Mrytle’s bathroom, brewing up a peace offering potion, Harry made his way to talk to the school nurse out of some crutches.

“So you want a pair of… crutches… that help people walk?” the matron worked her thoughts around the concept.

“Yep. You know, some good crutches. For when a bloke breaks a leg,” Harry supplied.

“Um, Mr. Potter. I know you may not believe it, but you should know that broken bones are healed in a matter of minutes here with magic…” she tried to make him understand.

“Ah. Yes. Magic. Right. Well, let’s try it this way, shall we? Let’s… pretend… that magic isn’t real and that a bloke breaks a leg and has it set in a cast. They would need crutches to get around. Make sense?”

“Oh! Oh yes, that makes sense. Um, yes, I think I may have what you are looking for in my storeroom. Give me a moment.”

Poppy Pomfrey went back to her office and closed the door. Every year Mr. Potter’s exploits had come to her attention and she was amazed that the poor boy had never come to her during a year. Relieved might be a better word for it now that she had just spent time in his presence. She wracked her brain thinking of what these “crutches” might look like. She thought it over for a few moments and with an idea in mind, she brought out her wand and conjured up a prototype. She knew from the staff discussions that doing magic in front of the lad would not make him believe in it any more. So no sense riling the poor boy up, she surmised. He was so sensitive about magic after all.

Madame Pomfrey quickly exited her office and showed Harry the crutches from the “storeroom”.

“Hmmm, Mrs. Pomfrey, this one is too round. You can’t roll this under your arms – you need to be able to walk with it.”

“You mean, like a staff?”

“Yeah! Like a staff. Sure.”

{-40-}

“This one is too tall, Mrs. Pomfrey. He’s not 8 feet tall, it needs to be shorter.”

“So not like a staff in this regard?”

“Right. It is meant to be under your arms.”

{-40-}

“Wow, the height on these are better.”

Poppy smiled at that.

“But how about instead of the bottom being in the shape of a foot, which I’m not even going to imagine where you found a medical supply shop that had these, how about any crutches in your storeroom that end in a round point?”

{-40-}

“I like the rounded bottom on this, Mrs. Pomfrey. But now we need to work on where to put the hands. We can’t just have him hold the shaft of the crutches – that is just uncomfortable. That kind of design went out last century. I know you are busy, ma’am, but we can’t send him subpar crutches. That is what he has now. We need to send him something good.

“Now, I know we are way out in the boonies here in Scotland, and that medical supply distribution centers are scarce and all, but don’t you have access anything remotely from this century?”

“Uh… yes I do, Mr. Potter. It is in… um, a storeroom in a different part of the castle. I will search for it shortly. Can you come back tomorrow for it?”

“Tomorrow? Sure! Thanks, Mrs. P!”

{-40-}

Silas Cornwalch was from an old purebred family. He always knew future employment was guaranteed. That is why he never tried very hard in school, and why, at age 48, he was still an orderly at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. As an orderly, he was tasked with all sorts of odd jobs. Bedpan duty was the one he hated the most.

But his latest task, given to him by that old geezer Alfred Pennyworthington the 3rd, who at age 103 was the oldest orderly in the hospital, and who basically trolled out assignments here and there while enjoying a cup of tea whenever he wanted it, well, he had given Silas a doozy of an assignment. The way Silas had heard it, Alfred had gotten his orders from the department head who in turn was doing a favor for the Hogwarts staff (maybe even the fabled Headmaster!), and Alfred had looked at giving the job to someone he could trust. Someone like Silas.

And so, Silas Cornwalch, the 48-year-old orderly, wearing a stripped tunic and polka-dot pants, ventured into central London on an errand to find a pair of good crutches. All because Alfred didn’t want to miss his lunch hour, Silas knew. So Silas had to use his lunch hour to find a pair of crutches… whatever they were. Something that had feet on them was the best he could gather from Alfred’s incoherent rambling.

Now, interesting fact from an author who has actually spent time in London – the air quality there sucked eggs. There was lots of air pollution. Pity that Silas didn’t know that fact when he pulled out his pipe to start smoking while looking to find the local hospital.

Roughly 45 minutes later, a young lady at a front desk of a normal-looking building was startled out of her thoughts (interestingly enough, about what she was going to have at lunch) by an old geezer stumbling into her lobby, wheezing.

“Crutches! I need…” wheeze, wheeze, “crutches! Give them to me now!”

The young lady, Rosanne Barr (no relation), knew what to do in this instance. She had been trained by her superiors for just this eventuality. “Of course, sir. You just have a seat there, in that nice comfy chair, while I ring for them. You all right? Need a drink? How about a sedative? Yes? Okay, try one of these.”

Rosanne went back to her desk while the old geezer in the crazy clothes was still wheezing, muttering about lunch crutches (what bad diction he had she thought), and promptly called her superior on the upper floors.

Within minutes three men were downstairs, two burly men ushering in the semi-lucid old geezer into an Auror battle armour jacket (although they didn’t call it that), and another older gentleman with a clipboard, filling out the admitting forms for the record in order to put the old geezer on a 48-psych hold in their psych hospital.

Now normally a pureblood being locked up in a psych ward wouldn’t be something to worry about. But Silas had never been known for remembering important things, or semi-important things, or even anything that would help him in any situation – like a wand – and as such he was defenseless against the much bigger (and younger) men who put him in the padded cell. And to make it worse, he hadn’t had lunch yet.

Rosanne, after the initial stint of excitement earlier that day, had resumed her daily duties, certain that the day would only be calmer after that. She had gone to lunch, had an Iced Tea (with a hint of something else to calm her nerves), and gone back to work. She looked at the clock as it approached half past four when her day did a déjà vu.

An ancient geezer, easily 90 or possibly older and a woman in her 60’s walked into her lobby. They were dressed similar to the other man from earlier in the day, although these two also held sticks that they were twirling around in their hands. Right, she decided. She had been trained on what to do in this situation. Calm them down, dope them up, and get them admitted.

Needless to say, as Rosanne was filling out the paperwork with the admitting doctor for two more psych holds roughly 25 minutes later, Silas’ co-workers were breaking themselves out of their padded cells, as well as rescuing Silas, all with the judicious use of blasting spells while on the run from the that hospital’s security guards in white suits who were frantically trying to get the three magicals to try on those new Auror battle armour garments.

Back at St. Mungo’s, word got around of a harrowing mission by three orderlies into muggle London. And several hours later, Diane Lake, the half-blood receptionist from the bottom floor office of Visitors for the Recently Dead, made her way to the hospital cafeteria where Silas and his two co-workers were regaling a crowd of healers and others their hazardous story while still slugging back some serious drinks. She made her way to the front and gave Silas a small package.

Silas opened it, un-shrank the contents and saw it was a pair of crutches. He looked up at the receptionist. She saluted him with the thumb and forefinger in the shape of an L on her forehead. “You da man, Silas,” she stated, then turned and walked away, still chuckling.

{-40-}

Madame Pomfrey sat in her office the next afternoon, filling out her timesheet. Not more than 20 minutes earlier she had given the acquired crutches to the amazingly irritating boy known as Harry Potter. She had also heard of the trials and troubles of the people involved that had managed to find the crutches. She went back to her timesheet. She was carefully filling out this work for Mr. Potter as overtime, and that Albus had better damn well approve it this time or he might have to find a new nurse!

{-40-}

Luna wrote the words PEACE OFFERING on the outside of the box containing the crutches. She wrote it in multi-color ink. Make that, flashing multi-color ink. She liked how it looked. The package was ready. She had promised Harry it would make it to the evil clown. Of course, Luna was sending the package postage due via owl shipping, with Harry’s return address at Hogwarts listed.

The owl flew off. Luna smiled at the sight.

{-40-}

Voldemort grumbled about paying the postage for the package, especially since none of his flunkies were about to do it for him, but paid the owls their fee. They flew off, job done. Voldemort took the package and wondered what it was. He immediately noticed the flashing “PEACE OFFERING” message on the outside.

Of course it was a peace offering, he smirked. It was the only way a package from his enemy could get through his impressive wards. Looking at the package, he wondered if Potter had sent him a broom as a peace offering. It certainly had that shape.

Like it would do him any good, he thought darkly.

He opened the box and immediately saw some crutches. What the…? He wondered why Potter would send him crutches… and then he noticed it.

Also included was a stick of dynamite that lit as soon as he opened the box.

“Oh no…” Voldemort started.

KA-BOOM!

Cough! Cough-cough! Voldemort waved his hand to clear the smoke. While it was clearing, he saw his reflection – it was black-sooted and his hair was scorched. His eyebrows were gone! Grrrr! “I’ll get that Potter if it’s the last thing I do! On this I so swear!”

{-40-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	42. Chapter 41: Soul Fragment 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 7

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-41-}

It was a nice, almost lovely spring day in the Highlands. Not too cold, not too hot. It was comfortable for Harry to go for a walk around the lake with his girlfriend, Luna. And it was cool enough that Luna wanted Harry to hold her hand for the heat.

When Harry thought back on that day, he really couldn’t remember exactly what they were talking about. They were just chatting about this and that. How she was going to go exploring for undiscovered animals in the wilds of Finland that summer, and how he was going to search out a solicitor for all of his grievances with the shoddy education he’d gotten over the last 7 years. Really, it was the same old, same old.

Of course, all that changed when a group of black-robe wearing weirdoes and the red-haired, red-nosed cretin that led them came running out of the forest next to them.

“Time to die, Potter!” cackled the red-haired, red-nosed moron. “Avada Kedavra!”

Harry had time to move away from Luna before the green light hit him dead center. And in that moment, Harry Potter collapsed to the ground.

“Harry?” Luna looked on in horror? “Harry?!” she ran to him and knelt down, trying to find some life in him.

“C’mon, boys! Let’s go storm a castle!” the red-nosed weirdo ran off with his thugs following.

This could be considered the end of a story. The hero dies. Evil wins. But… Harry, incredibly, did not go towards a bright light. Instead, he woke in a large white room with a jumbo-tron, a VCR and a remote. Harry smiled, sat in the white plush chair and clicked the play button.

{-41-}

The white flashed in and Harry saw a familiar scene. There were a lot of wall torches lit, flickering bad lighting across a wide cavern creating a lot of areas with deep shadows. It was a great scene for Halloween hide and seek, but Harry also remembered it stunk of stale water, and rotting bones. Harry sat and watched himself.

There was a giant anaconda coming towards the Harry on the screen. The Harry that looked to be about 12-ish. Younger-Harry looked at the older boy in the room who seemed to have an expression of glee at Harry’s upcoming demise.

“This is your secret weapon? A snake?” Younger Harry pointed a thumb to the approaching snake.

“Well, yes,” the older boy agreed, his tone slightly taken back as if the younger boy wasn’t impressed with the size of the snake.

“Uh-huh. Okay. So the snake is going to bite me? Swallow me? What?”

“Fool! It is going to look at you and you will die!”

“Uh-huh. Right. You sure it isn’t going to squeeze me to death? Because that is what they do you know. Squeeze.”

“It will LOOK at you and you will die! Don’t you get it?”

“Uh-huh. It will look at me. Got it. Okay, you don’t say… hey, look at THAT!” Younger Harry pointed behind the gloating older boy.

The older boy turned around, saw nothing and turned back to his nemesis. “What? I don’t…”

POINK! Younger Harry had moved exceptionally close to the older boy and poked him in the eyes.

The older boy’s hands went up to cover his now-stinging eyes.

Harry noticed the anaconda getting closer. He looked around for a weapon and settled on defense. He jumped to his minion’s (Ginny’s) side and yanked the book out of her grasp. Since she was asleep (probably fell asleep listening to the older boy go on and on about himself), he knew she wouldn’t mind if he used it to defend himself from the snake’s chompers.

The snake was almost on top of him. Harry looked around and saw the snake’s big mouth opening. Harry then smacked the snake on the snout. “Down, boy!” Younger Harry commanded.

The snake paused for a few seconds, wondering what had just happened. Not tasting the flesh of its prey, it started slithering to the rapidly backing up morsel.

Younger Harry kept backing up in the big cavern, somehow using the book to whack the snake on the snout a few more times causing the snake to pause each time. But he knew this action was only going to help for so long.

“Sheesh,” Younger Harry groused as he whacked the anaconda yet again. “This is one really big freaking snake.” Whack! “What I wouldn’t give for a better weapon than a book against this critter.”

The snake came back for another attack. It moved a little faster than before and Harry didn’t quite get the book out to whap it on the snout. Instead, the snake came in to take a chomp out of Harry and instead it bit down on the book. Confused, the snake reared back, the book stuck on one of its fangs.

While that other boy was groaning about something in the distance (both Older and Younger Harry weren’t paying attention), Younger Harry happened to see a sword sticking out of the ground near him.

“Hey, that’s convenient,” YoungerHarry muttered while grabbing the sword as the anaconda paid attention to the other boy who, for some oddball reason, had lit up some fireworks on his person (these so called wizards were crazy and always looking for attention both Harrys knew).

Younger Harry crept up to the snake.

Younger Harry then scooched up under the snake’s jaw (the book still impaled on its tooth, and the snake looking on at the other boy in confusion), and shoved the sword up through the jaw and into the snake’s brain.

Younger Harry ran out of the way of the collapsing snake as it went down in a lump fairly quick.

Older Harry had liked the editing of the story. Even if he didn’t understand the fireworks being lit on the other boy. That was just weird.

The scene faded to white…

TBC…

{-41-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	43. Chapter 42: Soul Fragment 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 7

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-42-}

The white receded and Older Harry saw yet another scene of himself.

This time he was in the Headmaster’s office, waiting for him to return. Older Harry remembered that day. He had his personal stalker type up some complaints he was going to use against the crazy teachers at the school once he officially gave them to the Headmaster. His education was pitiful. Gardening? Cooking? What kind of job prospects was he going to get with those?

As Younger Harry was looking over his notes, one Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and all that rot, pulled himself through the open window and into his office. Younger Harry saw the old geezer come in through the window and commented, “You know, you could have used the door like a normal person instead of a window to get into your office. I’m beginning to think you got this position because of that exact lack of critical thinking.”

“Ah, Harry,” wheezed the old timer as he collapsed into the chair. “I’m glad you are here. I need your help.”

“Jeez,” groused Harry. “What now?”

“I need to tell you of your destiny, my boy. I have to do it now for you see…. I am dying.”

“Uh-huh. Dying. What from this time?”

Gasp, gasp. “It is truth this time, Harry. And it involves your destiny.”

“Uh-huh. Let’s hear it and then I can get to these complaints against your staff.”

Gasp, gasp. “Very well. Earlier tonight I travelled to the home of Voldemort’s uncle and grandfather to look for any clues as to how he avoided dying years ago. I found a ring hidden under wards but did not account for the compulsion to put it on. It was cursed and now I am dying.”

“Uh-huh. A ring. Let’s see it.”

Albus Dumbledore lifted his hand to show the ring to his young student.

“Dude! Your hand is turning black! You have got to take that ring off!”

“Alas, it is cursed and I cannot take it off. And that is why I am dying. Now I must tell you of your… what are you doing?”

“Looking for some grease… ah there it is.” Harry pulled a can of axel grease from under a table and brought it over to the Headmaster’s desk.

“Harry, you don’t understand. The ring is cursed and won’t come off…”

“It’s an ugly ring, all right. But don’t you worry – I can get anything unstuck with grease. I use it all the time. But you get to clean up the mess.”

“But it is cursed…” Albus started as Harry took a chunk of grease and liberally applied it over his finger with the ring, then for good measure applied it over Albus’ entire hand, and then put a few clumps in his beard and on his “magical” robe.

“Hold onto the chair with your other hand while I pull,” Harry instructed.

“But Harry, it is cursed I tell you,” Albus said while grabbing hold of the chair arm with his other hand.

“Save it,” Harry grunted, yanking and yanking that ring. He almost had it… one more yank… and… whap! His grease-covered hand flew off the ring and smacked Albus in the snoot, blackening the white-bearded visage.

“Huh. You’re a troublesome ring, you are. But you won’t defeat me!” Harry grabbed the ring finger and started yanking again. A minute flew by, then another minute. Harry then stopped and stood straight, looking down at the ring.

“You’re going to be a troublesome little ring, aren’t you? All right. Time to break out the heavy grease. If only I had some lard… oh, hey, there’s some. How convenient!”

Harry pulled the lid off the lard, noticed it was years out of date and likely to attract all sorts of animals with its stink, but Harry ignored all that and grabbed a chunk of the gunk and rubbed it in with the axel grease.

“There! Now let’s get that ring off.” Yank! Yank! YANK!

Off the ring flew where it hit a portrait of a former Headmaster and left a stain on the canvass that would never be removed.

Harry picked up the ring from the floor and tossed it on the Headmaster’s formerly clean desk. It didn’t make a bit of impact on the now thoroughly greased and stained desk that had been an antique from the 15th century. “Here you go, Headmaster. Do me a favor and try to resist putting on gaudy jewelry from now on?”

Albus sat gobsmacked as his hand returned to normal. He looked at Harry (who was wiping his hands off on some towels that were nearby). Sheepishly, Albus took the ring and placed it next to a red journal that had bite marks through it. “Thanks, Harry,” the Headmaster thanked his student.

Harry rolled his eyes. “You need a few minutes to recover? Or can we get going on my list of complaints against your teaching staff?”

Older Harry remembered that day very well and was interested in seeing more of this action sequence, but the scene faded to white.

TBC…

{-42-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	44. Chapter 43: Soul Fragment 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 7

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-43-}

The white receded and Older Harry saw yet another scene of himself.

It was night. Both Harrys knew the reason the Headmaster wanted to take him to a “magical” cave at night. It was easier for the old timer to hide the blue smoke and mirrors. Younger Harry was just going along with this crazy scheme until he could prove once and for all that magic did not exist.

They had gotten by the entrance that was “magically” locked by Younger Harry simply giving the password of “Peanut Butter and Pickle Sandwiches Taste like crap”. Younger Harry knew that whatever he said would have opened the “cave” as he was sure that was the old geezer’s plan the entire time. So why not do what Shaggy would do was his thinking.

They went into the cave and found more water (shocker!) in a giant cavern. As Harry expected, there was a small boat near the edge of the water. “Let me guess, we have to take this boat to…” Harry looked around the dim cavern. “…To that sandbar in the middle, right?”

“It would appear so, Harry. Your magical senses must be tingling to have known where we need to go on this quest,” Dumbledore offered.

“Yeah, right. It’s called common sense. All right, let’s get on with it. But you’re rowing since I didn’t want to be here in the first place.”

Harry got in the boat and went to the front, not bothering to look back as the old Headmaster had to push the boat into the water and row them to the sandbar. In short order, the boat beached, they got out and walked to the middle of the teeny tiny island Harry saw the expected out-of-place thing. He didn’t know what form it would take – that of a small dog in stasis, or a golden throne sitting in the middle of nowhere – but he knew he would recognize it when he saw it.

And he did. He saw a pedestal with some water in it. “What kind of insane person would put a drinking fountain in the middle of a dark cavern surrounded by water?” Harry groused. “Oh wait, I forgot where I went to school…” Harry just shook his head.

“It’s not a drinking fountain, Harry,” Albus patiently explained. “See? It is a pedestal with a bowl on the top.”

“Uh-huh. And just how did the water that is in it get there?”

“I’m sure someone poured it in,” Albus guessed.

“Then why hasn’t it drained out?”

“Magic?” Albus smiled weakly.

“Don’t get me started, mister,” Harry said sternly. “So are we to just grab the bowl and leave? What’s the score here?”

“Score?” Dumbledore frowned at the term.

“Jeez. Keep up with changing terminology in this decade already. What. Do We. Need. To. Do. Here?”

Albus looked around the pedestal and then into the bowl. He nodded with understanding. “We need to get the locket at the bottom of the bowl.”

“Uh-huh. Let me guess – the liquid in the bowl is acidic or something?” Harry arched an eyebrow at the Headmaster.

“Or something; yes. I think we are meant to drink the water in there to get to that locket.”

“Are you crazy? Don’t you think that is kind of stupid to drink stale water? Who knows what kind of bacteria is in it from being in this cave.”

“Alas, Harry, it is the only way to get the locket.”

“Maybe for you. Not for me.” Harry then started looking around the sandbar. “C’mon, where would I be if I were a fishing pole…” Older Harry heard his younger self mutter. Harry started nudging the sand around and a few minutes later he found something. Leaning down, he pulled a fishing pole out of the sand that some fisherman must have left behind or something. “That’s convenient,” he smiled.

Harry inspected the fishing pole and noticed that while there was some string still on it, it wasn’t in very good shape nor was there a hook. Harry patted his pockets, smiled when he felt a lump and pulled out a magnet. He then proceeded to tie it to the existing string, carefully knotting it so it wouldn’t fall off in the bowl of stagnant water.

“Harry, I don’t think that will work on this locket,” the Headmaster protested.

Harry, as usual, didn’t listen to the head insane guy, and proceeded to put the magnet in the water in order to fish for the locket. Not surprisingly, Harry latched onto the locket on the first try and he brought it out of the bowl.

“What is this thing?” Harry asked of the ugly piece of jewelry, keeping it away from the hands of the old guy who he knew would just want to put it on like he did with the other ugly ring.

“It is Slytherin’s locket,” Albus supplied. He then pulled his stick out of his robe and proceeded to mumbo-jumbo it around the locket. “And it contains something very dark. Very dark indeed.”

“You mean it is part of the ugly jewelry you are interested in, right? Figures. Plus, according to your “magical” school history, it is also a thousand years old, so should be worth some pretty coin to a dealer. Or would have been if it had been made of real silver.”

“It’s not real silver?”

“Dude, I picked it up with a magnet. No, it’s not real. Cheap founders.”

Older Harry remembered that day very well and was interested in seeing more of this action sequence, but the scene faded to white.

TBC…

{-43-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	45. Chapter 44: Soul Fragment 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 7

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-44-}

The white receded and Older Harry saw yet another scene of himself.

Older Harry remembered this. He managed to get out of “classes” that day. It had been a Thursday as Older Harry recalled when the Headmaster sent him a note via circuitous means (Harry saw the old guy tie something onto the homing-owl (which Harry had been sure was cross-bred with a homing pigeon), release it, it flew around the Great Hall, deposited a few white splatters on some other kid’s heads, then flew back to the old guy, who removed the note and gave it to that crazy teacher, McGonagall, who Harry saw give the old guy a frosty glare as she cleaned up the white sludge excess from the outside of the missive, then walked down to his table and handed him a message which read:

Do you want to go to the bank today and get out of classes? Check YES or NO.

It had to be the stupidest thing the Headmaster had sent him, but Harry knew it was par for the course. So Harry checked YES and simply walked the response up to the old geezer who said they would leave after breakfast was over.

So lo and behold, Harry went with the Headmaster to the top floor office, whereupon Albus started in on Harry’s destiny once again. Harry had heard enough and sat down in the comfy chair in the office, closed his eyes and fell asleep. Harry then woke in that old decrepit greasy spoon called the Leaky Cauldron (or something like that). Greasy spoon was more like it. At least, Harry hoped it was grease on the spoons and not something… else.

“Did you slip me a Mickey?” Harry shot at the Headmaster as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

“Not at all, Harry. I could not wake you up in my office so I just brought you through the floo to this establishment.”

“Uh-huh. Likely story. But as long as you didn’t slip me a roofie, I’ll let it slide.”

The two went out the back of the smelly restaurant, tapped the pressure pads and the mechanical wall began to move and open for them. It was just like a souped-up Rhythm clock, Harry knew. Only bigger.

“So where to this time? Some crazy lady’s house of ill repute?”

“Ah, no, Harry. We are going to the bank.”

“You mean that note was legit? You dragged me out of classes to go to the bank?”

“You are not angry with me over that, are you?”

“Hell no! Saves me the time of forging your name on another note to get me out of class. What’s in the bank?” Harry wondered as they climbed the steps to the bank.

“A surprise,” Albus smiled at his wit as he evaded the question.

“A black surprise maybe?” Harry nudged the Headmaster with his elbow.

“Wha?”

“Sirius Black. You know, wanted mass murderer and all. That kind of surprise?”

“How did you know?” Albus stammered.

“He’s standing right over there,” Harry pointed to the wizard wearing dark robes and a cloak covering his face. Harry walked immediately over to him, causing a few patrons to trip over Harry’s feet since they didn’t watch where Harry was going.

“Hey Sirius,” Harry smiled going for a handshake. “How’s the mass murdering going?”

“What?” inquired a bank patron nearby.

Harry turned to that patron. “You know, Sirius Black. Wanted mass murderer of the ‘wizarding’ world!”

“Ahhhh, it’s Sirius Black. He’s escaped again!”

And there was much pandemonium in the bank as patrons started running all over the place in an effort to flee the premises.

“Do you have to do that every time you come into the bank, Mr. Potter?”

Harry, still grinning at the panic and mayhem in the bank as the taller blokes all ran out the doors, replied, “You bet. Besides, it’s good for business. Now they won’t come back to your bank to take their money away from you.”

“As much as we appreciate your thoughtfulness for our welfare, we still need them to do business with,” the short bloke said with a straight face.

“Ahh, c’mon, Grip ol’ buddy. You enjoy it as much as I do,” Harry slung an arm over the shorter guy’s shoulders.

Griphook looked at the young wizard and shook his head, a slight smile coming to play. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you are implying, Mr. Potter. Do have a good day.” He then left.

“Harry, good to see you again,” the cowled man pushed back the cloak and smiled at his godson.

“What are you doing here, Sirius?” Harry wondered.

“Ah, I asked for Dumbledore to meet me here. Come on, I’ve got a room waiting.”

Sirius walked Harry and the Headmaster to a side room, opened the door and inside was a short table with chairs next to the walls. On the table rested a safety deposit box. In one of the chairs sat a short fellah tapping his foot.

“This is a Gringotts bank auditor, who has been assisting me with some financial decisions. His name is Johnson.”

“That’s a strange name for a goblin, isn’t it?” Albus asked the short bloke straight out.

“Hey, hey, it’s a perfectly normal banking name,” Harry interjected.

“Yes it is, Mr. Potter,” the little fellah nodded to the young adult.

“Never mind that, Albus. The reason I asked to meet you here today is that Johnson and I have been consolidating my holdings within the bank. One of the things I’ve done is liquidated Trixie’s marriage and I took back her vault’s contents. Thanks for having the fat man at your house give me the idea, Harry.”

“No prob, Sirius.”

“Anyway, in Trixie’s vault was something really dark. And gaudy. And since I heard from Harry you were looking for things that were dark…”

“And gaudy,” Harry added.

“…and gaudy, I thought you would want it. So here, have a dark gaudy cup. It’s in the metal box on the table.”

“My dear boy,” Albus started, “could this be another piece of the puzzle…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, puzzle, pieces, gaudy jewelry and all that. Totally hear you. Now, since it is really dark, there are some forms to fill out. Mr. Johnson here has them for you since you are now the owner of the dark gaudy cup and if you want to leave with it, then you get the fun of ministry forms. Have fun. I’m taking Harry out for ice cream, a movie, a strip club, some gambling, another movie, dinner, and then finally throwing insults as purebloods here in the Alley. We’ll be back tonight to collect you once you are done with the forms.”

“Hrumph!”

“Oh, sorry, Mr. Johnson. Make that tomorrow night once you have finished with the forms. Not to worry, I’ll keep Harry out of any mischief I wouldn’t get in.”

Harry wanted to see more of this action sequence as he remembered only certain parts of it (mostly what they did up to going to that pub), but the scene faded to white.

{-44-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	46. Chapter 45: Soul Fragment 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 7

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-45-}

The white receded and Older Harry saw yet another scene of himself.

He and Professor Dumbledore were sitting in the Headmaster’s office. Older Harry thought for a few seconds and then snapped his finger, remembering this. It was only last year when that happened. The old guy had called Harry up on the pretense of discussing his grades and his lack of participation in class (along with his lack of attending the same classes), and had, as usual, gotten off on a tangent.

That tangent being Harry’s so-called destiny of collecting cheap jewelry from a thousand years ago.

Younger Harry sat in front of the Headmaster’s desk. His hands were behind his head as he stretched back in the chair. His eyes were closed. Oh, how he wished for a working Discman, like he had back at the fat man’s house… er… Privet Drive.

“I’m certain now more than ever that Riddle has left something behind in a Ravenclaw item,” Albus thought aloud as he looked at the junk on his desk.

Harry, eyes still closed, commented, “Like what? A stink bomb maybe?”

“No, a dark item like what Sirius found for us,” Albus said seriously. Younger Harry opened his eyes if only to roll them at the direction of the old timer. One day, he knew, one day the old guy would realize there was no such thing as magic.

“I’m betting it’s a piece of crappy jewelry, right?” Harry sarcasmed.

Albus wasn’t listening as he was lost in thought. “Only it will be in something that Ravenclaw left behind. Where could it be? Where could it be?”

“Here’s a thought. A wild idea, maybe. But have you thought of putting out personal ads for something?”

“Actually, Harry, I have tried that in years past. But no success. No one wants to own up to owning anything from the founder. They may be afraid it will be taken away from them.”

“No worries on my end. I wouldn’t want it. You know, if it is 1000 years old, maybe it is in a museum,” Harry suggested helpfully.

Dumbledore stroked his beard. “That’s a possibility. Not likely though. The only thing I can think of that might be in a museum would be Ravenclaw’s diadem.”

“You wear that around your waist, right?”

“No….” Albus trailed off, a little confused.

“You know, fathers would put a diadem around their daughters to keep their virtues intact while they were off crusading or something.”

“I think you mean a chastity belt,” Albus clarified.

“Yeah! Also known as diadems!”

“They are not the same thing,” Albus again tried to clarify.

“They both keep the boys away, that’s all I know,” Harry winked knowingly to the Headmaster.

“Be that as it may, I have no idea of how to find the diadem,” Albus wheezed out, coughing slightly on the lemon drop lodged in his throat.

“Yeah, me neither. Not sure I’d want Luna to know I was looking for it either. She has some strange ideas, that girl. But… hey! I know! Dobby!”

A popping sound came from around an edge of the office. Slowly, the small guy peeked around the corner.

Harry smiled at Dobby. “Still stalking me, eh? No worries, little guy.”

“Youze means it, Harry Potter sir?”

Harry grinned happily. “Heck yeah. You’re a pal, even if a stalker. Anyway, I have an assignment for you. The old guy with the whiskers is looking for something dark. Something evil. Possibly have something to do with Ravenclaw’s diadem. Something possibly dark and gaudy. You think you can scout around this place and see if you can pick up some clues where we might find it? Look for anything ‘evil’.” Harry air-quoted the ‘evil’ to emphasize what he thought of the Headmaster.

“Sure thing, Mr. Potter sir!” Dobby grinned happily at the job and then put his finger in his mouth, against a cheek, and pulled it out with a “pop”. Dobby then left the office, walking through the door.

Harry turned back to the Headmaster. “He’s a good guy, Professor. A little touched, but who isn’t here.”

Older Harry then watched his younger self try to teach the Headmaster how to make the “pop” sound with his fingers in his mouth. He remembered it took them over an hour of trial and error before lunch showed up in a dumbwaiter or something.

“I just can’t get it,” Albus admitted as he sat down at his desk and started in on his lunch.

“Not to worry,” Harry replied as he took a bite out of a sandwich. “All of the students here can’t get it either. Well, most of them. For some reason, only those not insane can make that sound.”

Harry missed the glare the Headmaster sent his way. “Why don’t we continue to strategize about the missing evil object while we eat,” he suggested.

“Sure,” Harry agreed. “How about…” Harry stopped as the office door opened.

Dobby entered the room, holding a grey bag in front of him, away from his body like he was carrying something that was horrible.

“What’cha got, Dobster?” Harry asked of his personal stalker.

“Dobby has scoured the castle and founded the two biggest dark items here. They reek of evilness and Dobby thought Professor Dumbs should know about them.”

The Headmaster became more alert. “By all means, Dobby. Please show us these items so we may take appropriate action.”

Dobby nodded and put the sack down. He then untied the rope around the top of it, put on some dish gloves, pulled out a pair of long metal tongs and reached into the bag. He pulled out a once-white pair of something. A green-ish hue could be seen glowing around it.

Harry didn’t go near it but stared at it, trying to discern what the evilness was.

“Dobby found this in Professor Smelly Hair’s room. The castle elves refuse to go in there because of it.”

“Astounding,” the Headmaster adjusted his glasses to get a better look. “What can it mean?”

Harry’s eyes shot open in panic. “It means he hasn’t washed or otherwise cleaned his underwear in God knows how long. Get rid of it, Dobby! Quick!”

“At once, Mr. Harry sir!”

Dobby turned slightly and ran past the Headmaster’s desk to the window. There, he pushed the window open with end of the tongs. The end of the tongs with the evil underwear on it. Little did the little guy know that it would be years before the port-a-potty smell would vanish from that office due to that little action.

Dobby then flung the underwear (and tongs – after all, they were ruined now) out the window. Dobby closed the window and smacked his hands in the “there, cleaned” gesture. A satisfied nod to Mr. Harry sir, Dobby then went back to the bag. Still wearing gloves, he reached into the bag and pulled out a cheap looking tiara.

“Dobby found this in the Come-And-Go Room, Mr. Harry sir. It also reeks of evilnesses, but not as potent as Professor Smelly Hair’s evilness.”

Harry looked at the thingy. “That’s it? A ruddy tiara?” Harry wondered aloud.

“No, it’s a Diadem,” the Headmaster clarified.

Harry shook his head. “Look, Albus, I know a tiara when I see it. Your school founder was a beauty pageant contestant, wasn’t she? I knew it. That explains so much out here!”

“I don’t think there were beauty pageants a thousand years ago, Harry,” Albus tried to placate.

“Sure there were. You’ve got proof in your hands. Just do me a favor and try not to put it on,” Harry pleaded. “I don’t want to have to deal with getting that thing off your noggin’.”

“Not to worry, Harry. I have no plans to do that,” Albus agreed as he put the diadem with the other assorted evil goodies.

“One last thing to do then,” Harry thought aloud.

“And what’s that?” the Headmaster inquired.

“We need to get some anti-evil underwear for Professor Snape. Or at least teach him how to use a Laundromat. And barring that, a couple rocks and some water would do the trick as well.”

{-45-}

For some reason, the scene did not fade to white as the others had. Older Harry watched the scene leave the educator’s office and jump outside the window, quickly descending to the ground where the evil underwear was slowly coming to a stop in its aerial descent.

There was a very large group of rose bushes the underwear started towards. Yet, for some reason, a sudden gust of wind shot out on the otherwise still day and pushed the evil underwear away from the rose bushes and back towards the castle wall, and onto a secret still that one Argus Filch had created years ago and hidden away from the snot nosed no-good kids.

The evil grungy undies landed on the still that had otherwise been in full mixture mode. And then for some unknown reason, Older Harry saw a time lapse as the evil undies wrapped themselves around the copper tubing and then slowly seeped into the brew over the next couple of hours as the unmentionables slowly disintegrated.

Days later, in the early morning when those no good kids were still asleep, Filch inspected his latest batch of hooch. He sniffed it. Seemed to think something wasn’t quite normal and took a long pull from the liquid. His eyes popped open and he fell to the ground.

Later that same day, a smell alerted students that something was off and they investigated only to find Filch unconscious next to a smoking, bubbling thing-a-ma-bob. They quickly levitated him up (which Older Harry suspected had to do with magnets, otherwise how could they get him to float?) and they ran (more like a quick walk) to the infirmary (only letting Filch’s head hit the walls three times in their journey). Madam Promfrey took charge immediately, shooed the kids off after telling them they had done a good thing, and then started in on the aging caretaker. She had to restart his heart three times during the next five hours, but she finally got him stabilized by the middle of the night and slowly brought him back to life.

Filch woke at one point when Madam Promfrey was trying to determine who Argus’ next of kin was and muttered, “I never knew evil tasted so good…” before he fell back asleep with a goofy grin plastered on his face.

Harry was interested in seeing more of this action sequence, but the scene finally faded to white.

{-45-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	47. Chapter 46: Soul Fragment 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 7

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-46-}

The white receded and Older Harry saw yet another scene of himself.

Oh, that’s right, Older Harry realized. It was during that meeting with the insane asylum escapee. A quick montage followed where Harry saw his younger self face slap, fist donk, and otherwise poke the eyes of the red-haired, red-nosed escapee. Then the pie to the face and next thing the Harrys saw was the escapee down on the ground unconscious. Real time then resumed on the video as the older version saw the younger version look around the room.

That is when it happened. Those darn dark scientists always testing Harry.

It was another animatronic. This time in the form of a snake that started slithering towards him.

“Oh great,” Younger Harry tsk’d. “Another bloody snake. You’d think I was Harrison Ford.” The snake stopped near the resting form of the escapee and then looked back at Harry, who had stepped back himself a few feet to get a better idea of what to do.

“Hey, snaky, snaky, snaky. C’mere, fellah,” Harry motioned to the animatronic. “When I get my hands on the creep who has the time to create these bloody animatronics…” Harry muttered, as he centered himself, readying for the strike.

The snake paused, which Harry knew meant it was downloading the order to strike from its CPU, and Harry took that moment to launch his own offensive.

He thrust the cattle prod onto it, zapping the bloody thing good. The snake went down, twitching a few times as the electricity overloaded its circuits.

“Right,” Harry nodded, picking up the snake by the tail and dragging it to the loo. He then shoved its head down the commode and pushed the rest of it down as far as it would go into the toilet bowl.

“No Westworld here for me, that’s for sure,” Younger Harry stated just before zapping the entire toilet bowl with his cattle prod, frying the animatronic for good.

Younger Harry then flushed the toilet and left the loo, and the room entirely via that nifty cabinet thingy.

Older Harry watched as the camera went back to the loo and the animatronic. Inside the toilet, the snake never did make it down to the sewers. Instead, it got stuck half way down the pipe and then for some reason this caused the plumbing to back up and the pipes (and toilet) exploded. Water and other stuff gushed out everywhere. The kitchen also had gushing pipes.

Water started flowing all around the place.

A few minutes later the insane guy with the red hair woke up as a the water was around his face. He saw something brownish near his nose. He looked at it closer, raising his head out of the water and sewage.

It was a turd.

“What the…?” Voldemorty managed.

Harry was interested in seeing more of this action sequence, but the scene faded to white.

{-46-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	48. Chapter 47: Soul Fragment 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 7

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-47-}

The white receded and slightly Older Harry saw yet another scene of himself.

Older Harry remembered this. It was only a month ago. He and that wacky Headmaster were sitting in the old timer’s office. As usual, the geezer had brought him up to the office with the assurances that Harry’s grievances would be answered and equally as usual, the old fart had rerouted the conversation to himself.

Slightly Younger Harry sat in front of the desk, some papers (excuse me, some parchment) on his lap, getting his arguments ready. Older Harry saw the Headmaster sitting in his chair, his head in his hands while it shook back and forth.

“What to do…” the Headmaster muttered. “What to do?”

“What’s the problem now?” Slightly Younger Harry inquired.

“It’s the evil that is in this room. The pure evil. We need to wash away the taint on these items,” Dumbledore muttered, his head still in his hands. Slightly Younger Harry never saw the casual pointing of the old Headmaster’s fingers towards some evil items that they had acquired over the years that were on the edge of the desk.

“Huh?” that Harry said, looking up.

Dumbledore looked at Harry in turn. “They are unclean and evil. Oh, so evil. I can’t use anaconda venom on all of them as it just won’t work. We need something else that can be used on metal items.”

“Evil, you say? Hmmm, toughie. Hopefully it won’t take me seven and a half million years to figure this out.” Younger Harry sat for another minute, then shot straight up. “I’ve got it!” he snapped his fingers. “Have you given any thought to using electro-shock therapy?”

Dumbledore looked at the items on his desk. “You mean use that thingy on these items?”

“Items?” Younger Harry looked at the thingies on the desk. “Uh, yeah, sure. Why not?”

Harry rose out of the chair and started looking around. While searching, he said, “This will prove once and for all that there’s no such thing as magic. If only there were a tub of water… oh, there’s one. How convenient.”

Harry dragged the large metal tub of water over to the desk, not really caring that he was scratching the heck out of the floor in a thousand-year-old castle. Harry then grabbed the book, the cup, the diadem, the locket and the ring and tossed them in the water. None of them floated.

“Harry, I don’t…” Albus started only to stop as Harry pulled out a small metal rod and snapped his wrist whereupon the rod became a large metal rod. Curious to know what his young student was doing, Albus watched as Harry stuck the rod into the water and then said, “Activate already!”

Zzzzzaaaaappppp. Crackling energy shot about in several different colors and a nasty black mist came out of everything in the tub and floated upwards. A loud wailing was heard by the Headmaster got s for a few seconds as Harry retracted the metal thingy from the water.

“There. That should do the trick,” Harry announced with a satisfied nod. “Your ‘magical’ knick-knacks are gone. That means there is no more magic here. Okay? You’ll have to rely on science now. You’ll also have to find out how someone rigged a lightshow in your room and have them rewire it in case you want to do it again.”

“But Harry, you just used magic to get rid of all these soul fragments,” the Headmaster protested.

“Magic? Pal, this is a good old fashioned cattle prod. Great battery life. It’s not magical at all. I keep telling you, there’s no such thing as magic.”

Older Harry was interested in seeing more of this sequence, but the scene faded to white.

{-47-}

The white receded and Harry saw yet another scene of himself. In fact, it was from just moments ago.

Harry was on his walk with Luna when the insane asylum escapee with the red doo and nose ran out of the woods with some of his crew behind him, and shot Harry with that modified stick taser. Harry saw himself slump over, stunned more than likely, and the other goons run off towards the castle. He saw Luna kneel down and put his head in her lap.

Harry then saw some dark vapor come out of his head.

The vapor seems to have a presence about it. Harry wondered if it could be a good mist or a bad mist. Harry looked critically at the mist as it coalesced into a hand and flipped Harry the bird as it floated upwards to attach itself to other wisps of black smoke that almost formed a man-shaped size. Part of the black mist-head was still missing. Harry then noticed a couple of demonic imps jumping around the nearly-completed black wisp, jabbing it with the traditional red pitchfork all the while giggling and laughing.

Harry was sure he was seeing just a trick of the light with the black wispy thingy, and wanted to see more but that old white flashing thingy happened yet again.

{-47-}

Harry woke up.

His eyes opened and he looked up to see a smiling Luna.

“What a weird dream,” Harry muttered as he sat up.

“I’m sure it was,” Luna agreed. “Here, you’ll need this.” She handed him his cattle prod.

“I guess it wasn’t entirely a dream. Okay, stay here. I need to go take care of that insane patient who got out of his cell.”

“Have fun storming the castle,” Luna called after Harry.

{-47-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2


	49. Chapter 48: The Top Nut Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 7

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-48-}

It was a dark and stormy night. Suddenly a shot rang out… well, no, not really. While it was dark, and it was stormy, it wasn’t night. It was actually about 4:45 on a Saturday afternoon. Winter was over, so the forest and the fields were starting to green up. Well, kind of. As far north as they were, night would be descending soon enough. On the plus side, the full moon, visible earlier, would make it easy to see what was going on. That is, if it hadn’t been for the storm clouds that had moved in over the past 10 minutes.

As for the shot ringing out, well… it wasn’t really a shot either. More like a big boom. Several big booms. Harry had rushed back to the castle to see what the red-haired weirdo and gang of black-robe wearing wackos were doing. He stopped as soon as he got a good look at them.

“Yep,” he agreed to himself. “It’s par for the course,” he shook his head as he saw the gang of thugs re-enacting a scene from literally every middle-ages sword-movie ever made in that they were trying to get in through the main gates of the castle. These whack-jobs took it the extra step, however, by building some large animatronics to help out. And it was these large animatronics that were hitting the barricaded castle doors with the base of a large uprooted tree.

The wooden doors on the castle, while fairly thick, were also fairly old and would not withstand that kind of abuse, Harry knew. He needed to get these jerks to knock it off and go back to their rooms before he got blamed for this mess and had to pay for the repairs.

Harry patted his pockets for his backup weapon, found it, and pulled it free. Not knowing what to encounter was frustrating. But after 7 years of attending school with what could only be described as “frustrating individuals”, Harry had learned to go around prepared.

Harry then crept up behind a goon. The animatronics whacked the main doors again and as the “boom” of the attack went, so did Harry. He struck the goon from behind with Mr. Rock.

Harry then repeated the process six more times before someone noticed that his friends were fainting at the sight of the Trolls using a tree as a battering ram. He then looked to see what had caused them to have vapors or something and noticed something that turned his blood cold.

It was Harry Potter. An alive Harry Potter. An alive, pissed off Harry Potter. An alive… well, you get the idea.

“It’s Harry Potter!” shrieked a DE, waving his hands like he’d just told everyone something important.

Now Harry would have preferred not to be noticed for a while longer, if only to knock out more of these insane asylum escapees, but he took the lull in the fighting for what it was: an opportunity.

“I’m not Harry Potter,” Harry said as he walked up to the started “wizard”.

“You’re not?” the man exhaled a breath he hadn’t even been aware of holding.

“Nope. I’m the Harry Potter to you!” and with that, Harry whacked the fellah over the head with Mr. Rock.

More wackos stopped what they were doing to allow Harry a better view of the group and the castle under siege.

“What the heck are all you creeps doing? You off your meds again?” Harry started looking around for the lead nutter during the cessation of the hostilities.

“Greyback, get him!” shouted a voice hidden by other goons.

Suddenly a large dog could be seen making its way, slowly, towards Harry. Well, it could be seen once the rest of the goons got out of the way.

“Sit!” Harry commanded.

The beast continued to move towards Harry.

“I said, SIT! Bad dog!”

The beast continued to move towards him, drool coming from its mouth.

“I hate to do this to a dumb animal, but you leave me no choice,” Harry shook his head, resigned at what he had to do.

Harry then threw Mr. Rock at the doggie.

“Let him through,” came a voice that was trying to sound ominous, or would have if that same someones shoes hadn’t squeaked.

Harry ignored the sound the doggie was making (probably whining that he’d been bumped on the head), and he slowly walked up to the front of the wacko convention. Every now and then a black-robed nut-job would scowl at him and start to say something that Harry had no desire to hear, so Harry preemptively punched the jerk and continued on.

“Was that necessary?” asked a goon of Harry, motioning to the downed goon with the bleeding lip or nose, or whatever it was behind the stupid white mask.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, still going to the front of the line. “I’m afraid it was.”

In short order, Harry was at the front of the pack where he saw the lead nutter.

Harry took in the sight of the main doors of the castle. The doors were cracked and would allow entry of all the sycophants unless he did something. Bad enough he was in a school for the insane, but they really weren’t the bad sort. This group, however, was another thing.

Harry stopped a few feet in front of Chuckles the Mad Killer Clown, or Riddle, or whatever he called himself. As expected, the tall albino had a “wand” trained on Harry. “I don’t want to know where your wand has been,” Harry volunteered.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You come out here to fight me with an umbrella?” Voldemort roared, pointing to the short umbrella hooked on Harry’s arm.

“I had a rock,” Harry pointed out.

“Blast you, boy! Where’s your wand, Potter?”

“You’re as crazy as the rest of the nuts in this nuthouse, Tommy. Wands are for crazy people.”

“Then how do you expect to fight me?”

“Fight you? Who said anything about fighting? It’s going to rain. We are in Scotland you know. That’s what the umbrella is for. You have lived in England before, haven’t you?”

“Enough of that! Come closer, boy. I want to see your eyes as you die.”

“Yeah, yeah, come closer, I’m going to kill you, yada, yada, yada,” Harry snarked as he moved closer to the evil clown.

Clouds overhead became darker. A storm was coming. The wind picked up. A drop fell. Then another.

“Prepare to die, Potter,” Voldemort chuckled and then raised his stick, starting, “Ava…”

No one there ever knew what happened. Not the goons in their black robes (probably because they wore white masks that obscured their vision), not the defenders of the castle, not even the lead nutter was sure what happened.

But Harry knew. He knew since he did it. He saw the lead nutter raise his stick and start to say, “Ava…” when Harry pulled the umbrella off his arm and pressed the button on the base of it. The umbrella then shot forward (faster than Harry remembered it ever doing it before, but what did he know) and smacked Voldemort in the eye. The left eye.

The psycho clown dropped his wand, his hands going up to his inured eye. “Ouch! Sunuva… Potter, that hurts!”

Harry didn’t comment and instead opened his umbrella and stepped to the side as the rain started.

“Later, losers!” Harry shouted as he then ran towards the open crack in the castle doors. It was just big enough for one person to get through. Well, one person that hadn’t lived the last 20 or 30 years sucking down fatty meals and getting next to no exercise like most of the crowd seemed to have done.

Voldemort saw his nemesis disappear through the doors. “I’ll kill you, and your filthy muggle device too!” Voldy then ran after his number one adversary, jumping through the door like Potter did.

That broke the ice for the rest of the Death Eater crowd who all rushed the door, trying to be the next one in. Unfortunately, several shall we say portly blokes hit the opening at the same time and effectively sealed the breach up for the foreseeable future.

{-48-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2

Author’s note: When I lived in London about a million years ago, I was in a flat with several friends. There was this one guy who had a short umbrella with a button on it that he kept clicking which had the umbrella shoot forward and open. He thought it was funny to keep shooting it out towards my head. I’m sure you can tell where this story is going… He shot it out a little too close to my head and whacked my ear, causing it to bleed. It was a stinger.

But the worst thing of all about my stay in London, during those days when it rained (which was often enough) was that there were a TON of little old ladies with older umbrellas that had metal ends that could poke you in the eye if they held them at the right height. And since these little old ladies were all bloody SHORT, yes, it was usually at the right height to poke someone in the eye.

These memories of my time in London were directly responsible for the umbrella scene you just read.

Now if only I hadn’t eaten red meat during that time with the Mad Cow disease running through the countryside…


	50. Chapter 49: The Top Nut Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 7

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-49-}

To recap…

The dark forces were attacking the biggest and bestest magical school in the world (Dumbledore’s opinion, not Harry’s) while Harry was taking a nap on his girlfriend’s lap. He woke up, saw what was going on, and knew he had to do something before he got blamed for the mess that was going to ensue (like that hadn’t happened before). So Harry approaches the robe-wearing weirdos, knocks a few out and gains the rest of their attention. He then goes to the front of the line and sticks it to the man… er… sticks an umbrella in the eye of the top loser. Momentarily distracted, Harry then makes a run for it through the crack in the castle door the nut jobs had opened. His goal was for the top nut to chase him so the rest of the gang would not know what to do and with that in mind, they would just go back to their rooms. Or at worst, go to the lunchroom and get some meds mixed in their pudding to put them to sleep.

Harry made it through the castle door crack, the insane psycho clown hot on his heels, and the rest of the dunderheads stuck outside once the crack had been sealed with the flabby bodies of several pureblood “wizards” pushing themselves into the crack at the same time until they got good and stuck. So this is the part of the story that the narrator would then rush to see what was going on with the hero.

However…

Let’s take a moment to see what was going on with the dark forces attacking the upstanding school, shall we?

Minutes earlier a very interesting thing happened, something that Harry had no idea would happen. Actually, Harry would never, ever, ever (to the tenth power) think this would happen, because, let’s face it, Harry didn’t believe in magic.

That interesting thing happened moments after Harry threw Mr. Rock at the advancing doggy that wouldn’t mind his commands to sit. Harry’s attention was immediately taken into a new direction and he never saw what happened next. If he had watched his throw of Mr. Rock, he would have certainly thought something was up with this group.

Harry threw Mr. Rock at Fenrir Greyback (not that Harry knew of any doggies with two names, but with this crowd, anything was possible) and turned away. Mr. Rock went on her way towards the advancing werewolf. The werewolf was amazed that someone went on the offensive against him. True, it was a rock and wouldn’t hurt him, but in virtually every instance he went up against someone in his werewolf form, those he was against turned and fled in terror. This boy didn’t do that. Instead, he threw a rock at him.

Chuckling, the mangy werewolf thought of the many ways he was going to rip this boy apart, no matter what that dark clown wanted to do to that boy. So enraptured in that stray thought that the werewolf did not bat away the projectile headed his way. Not that it would have done any good.

Mr. Rock scrunched up her magical might and, while small to the appearance of everyone in the world at first glance, she carried a mighty punch. A mighty punch that was almost like having a boulder weighing roughly 10,000 kilos falling from a kilometer up landing on someone. And Mr. Rock knew where she could inflict the most pain on that rotten werewolf that threatened her Harry!

Mr. Rock was thrown at the werewolf. She had the distance, and was on a course to smack the doggy in the head, but then changed course as she really didn’t like that werewolf. And carrying her 10,000 kilo weight, she landed on Greyback’s foot.

Greyback didn’t really know what happened. One second he was happy as vicious thought after vicious thought came to mind of him ripping the boy to shreds, and the next thing he knew something wasn’t right. And then the pain hit.

“Whine! Whine, whine, whine! WHINE!”

The other werewolves were confused. There was their pack leader, standing upright, with a small rock on his foot. But he appeared to be in pain. But the rock was still on the foot and not moving. And the pack leader was trying to jump around but the foot with the rock wouldn’t move. It was as if it were stuck in that spot.

Why would their leader cry over a small rock? The werewolves huddled to discuss this amongst themselves.

“WHINE! WHINE! WHIIIIINNNNNEEEE!”

And while the werewolves were discussing their need for a new leader who wouldn’t fall apart with a small rock on his foot, the dementors were also having a conversation. Or as much as a conversation they could have with all that whining racket. It went something like this:

“Hey Paul,” one started.

“Yeah John?” another answered.

“I don’t think Mr. Rock likes that werewolf.”

“I do say you are onto something, old bean.”

“What say we suck out his soul since she still scares me?”

“Capital idea! Hey, George! Pete! Wringo! C’mere!”

“You fellas okay? That whining is getting on my nerves.”

“I’ll say,” answered the last to join the dementor huddle.

“Guys, John here has an absolutely smashing idea.”

“Does it involve smashing that werewolf over the head to shut it up?”

“Almost. John thinks it would be a good idea to curry favor with Mr. Rock by draining the life out of that werewolf and his pack.”

“Paul, that’s not what I said.”

“Eh, it’s what you meant, isn’t it?”

“You know, it really is. She really scare me.”

Wringo supplied, “Then why stop with the werewolves? I think those Trolls may be a little tasty.”

“And I’ve never tried those large spiders over there…” entered Pete. “I wonder what they taste like.”

“Here’s your chance to find out.”

“I’m in. Everyone else?” They all nodded.

“It’s lunch time! And… BREAK!” yelled Paul the dementor to his brethren. They broke the huddle and started towards their targets.

“Hey, Saul,” wondered one wizard to another DE.

“Yeah? Bloody! We need to get this ruddy mask redesigned. I can’t see anything!”

“Take it off then. You need to see this.”

“See what?”

“See the dementors tearing into the werewolves,” the first DE mentioned, the fear dripping in his voice.

“WHINE! WHINE! WHIIIIINNNNNEEEE!” the alpha male tried to dislodge Mr. Rock yet again as the werewolves around him dropped to the ground.

Interesting side note: a werewolf drained by a dementor during a full moon actually drains the lycanthropy from the beastie, and reverts them back to human mode as to what they were before being bitten. Their curse was ended. This was confirmed by healers at the wizarding hospital several days after the Hogwarts siege, and soon enough werewolves were coming across the world to the UK to be dementored (as it was soon called). Not that they were looking forward to French-kissing an unholy creepy thingy, but a dare’s a dare, even if it was a “triple-dog dare ya!”

You don’t want to know how the dementoring of the werewolves gave the brethren gas. Azkaban would never be the same and was soon feared for a different reason.

{-49-}

As for Harry…

“Gasp, gasp, wheeze, wheeze, gasp, gasp,” loudly inhaled and exhaled the hero of this story as he took one agonizing step after another up the Astronomy tower. Just a few more steps and he’d be at the top.

“Gasp, gasp, wheeze, wheeze, gasp, gasp, hack-hack, wheeeeeze, hack!” loudly exhaled and inhaled the villain of this story as he took one agonizing step after another up the Astronomy tower. ‘Get Potter!’ was his mantra as he started up the stairs, which soon became, ‘Don’t have a stroke going up these stairs!’

A few more steps and Harry was at the top of the tower. He quickly moved over to a wall and braced himself against it while he caught his breath.

A moment later, the evil killer clown came up the stairs, the ominous squeak, squeak, squeak of his shoes taking each step. He too made it to the top and moved to the opposite wall from Harry, his hand going to it to brace himself as he caught his breath.

“This place could use some elevators,” Harry panted out, wiping the sweat off his brow.

“Word,” Voldemort agreed, flicking his own sweat away.

Harry never did recall what the two chatted about for the few minutes they caught their breath, got their stamina back, and limbered up to start their epic duel. Truth be told, he wasn’t really paying attention.

“Now, Potter, we are at the top of Hogwarts. A fettle place for our final duel. Are you ready to die?”

“Hey, Chief, you’re getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you? Me die? C’mon. Really?”

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed and he got into a dueling stance. “Ready to face me, coward?”

“Dude, why are you standing like that? It looks like you are going to take a crap,” Harry pointed out.

“Silence! It is time to die, Potter!”

“Your funeral, pal.” Harry then got into a dueling stance and waddled near him. “See? This position looks like I need to crap my pants.”

“Shut up!”

Harry used that moment to unleash another whack between the eyes on the evil clown with his umbrella again. Moments before it was to hit, Voldemort dodged to the side, smacking the umbrella aside and out of Harry’s hand.

“Hah! Missed!” Voldemort chortled aloud.

“You’re right,” Harry agreed, and then jolted him with the cattle prod.

The red-headed evil clown gritted his teeth, dropped his wand, but then latched onto the cattle prod, yanking it out of Harry’s hand. The pain stopped immediately on Voldy. He waved the cattle prod above his head. “Hah-hah-hah! Victory will be mine, Potter!”

Well, victory was going to be someone’s as right then a bolt of lightning shot down from the sky, connecting with the cattle prod, and 1.21 gigawatts of energy went into the evil wizard. His eyes lit up as he sparked and was flung over the Astronomy tower wall, towards all the evil minions below.

“Note to self,” Harry muttered as he moved to the edge of the wall. “Get some guardrails up here.”

Harry saw the evil clown hit the ground below. SPLAT!

“And Bob’s your uncle, you insane asylum escapee,” Harry mumbled.

Harry noticed the evil minions hadn’t noticed the descent of their leader. For some reason they seemed engrossed in whatever was happening with the animatronics. “Wish I had a bullhorn,” Harry commented in a low voice, looking for something to get those cretins attentions.

Harry found a working bullhorn a few moments later. Hmm, that’s convenient, Harry thought, flicking the power button on. Leaning over the side, Harry shouted, “Your leader is dead, numbskulls! Knock it off or no desert after dinner!”

“No pudding? But I like pudding!” one Death Eater whined to another DE.

“That Potter whelp has killed our leader again! We must avenge him!” shouted the voice of Malfoy Sr.

“You might want to avenge him, Malfoy, but I don’t. I never did like the crucios he handed out like candy.”

“True… I never liked that part either,” Malfoy Sr. admitted.

“Then we surrender?” inserted another voice.

“Aurors! You’re surrounded! Surrender or die!” yelled the determined, and as usual – late, voice of a magical policeman.

“I’m all for surrendering, boys,” Malfoy Sr. dropped his wand.

Harry saw the remaining goons surrender and the animatronic spiders skitter back to their sheds somewhere in the forest, and the guys in the troll suits just sat down as Harry was sure wearing those rubber suits was hot.

And there was much rejoicing by the student body. Nothing like a bit of excitement during exams! “Maybe exams might even be cancelled…” Harry caught one student wishing to another.

{-49-}

That evening, as the bad guys had been taken away to jail, the monste… er… misguided creatures returned to their habitats, and those poor de-souled werewolves taken away to wherever they take the de-souled to spend their last days on Earth until they starve or dehydrate to death, Albus Dumbledore sat across his impressive desk (well, not impressive to Harry but he didn’t need to know that) from Harry. They had been in the Great Hall for dinner, but after the constant cheering, constant back-slapping, and constant drink-spilling on the Headmaster by an enthused Argus Filch (what had gotten into that man after all, Albus wondered), the ancient wizard had had enough and excused himself to his office.

And once there, he found that Harry had decided to meet him there. Of course, he never noticed Luna, her clothes a little ruffled, discreetly make her way out of the office while Harry stayed behind to run interference with the Headmaster.

Soon enough the Headmaster was engrossed in telling Harry all about the scar on his knee (yet again, and yet again taking absolutely for-ever!) to the point where Harry couldn’t escape. So he settled back in the comfy chair and dozed. Only waking at the end when Albus finally stopped listening to his own voice and asked Harry a very important question.

“…and that was how I discovered the positive energy of lemon drops. All because of my knee,” Albus lamented, turning his chair around to face his graduating student.

Harry awoke immediately after subconsciously hearing: “…of my knee”. Stretching, Harry said, “Yet another interesting story of your knee, Albus. Well, I’ve got to be goi…”

“So Harry,” Albus interrupted (and not for the first time in the seven years Harry had been going to that school. “Now that you have graduated, what do you think you will do now?” The Headmaster smiled an earnest smile, thinking that would soothe all the world’s woes.

Harry thought how to respond to that question and finally decided that Albus needed to hear the brutal truth. “Well,” Harry started. “Since I just finished seven years of sub-par education that will give me no job prospects whatsoever, not even as a stage magician since none of the teachers could teach me how to do card tricks, I’ve had to give that question some serious thought. And I think I have it.”

A pause.

“And what is that, my boy,” Albus prompted, eager to learn his student’s next course in life.

Harry smiled and pulled out a metal rod, flicked his wrist and it extended. He pressed a button and some sparks came from it. “Now that I have my replacement cattle prod, and since Filch says he is planning on retiring to open a distillery, I’m thinking of taking over his spot in this insane asylum in order to keep the crazies in line.”

“That’s… simply fantastic, my boy,” Albus smiled, not sure how some of the students were going to like having Harry cleaning the loos around there. Or more like, having the students clean the loos during their detentions… or else Harry would use that magical stick of his. But, hey, it could be worse. He could be going muggle.

“That, or I may take some classes at home and go to Uni this fall. Maybe I can buy my way in. After all, it’s what my parents did with me in this loony bin.”

Albus’ smile faltered a bit. It was worse.

{-49-}

2 months later…

“Headmaster Dumbledore!” asserted one of the ministry drones attached to the minister.

“Yes, random wizard?” Albus said wearily.

“The reporters and attendees are all wondering when Mr. Potter will get here for the award ceremony? It’s not everyday someone gets an Order of Merlin, 1st Class,” the man pointed out the obvious.

Albus shared a suffering look with his potions professor. They had both met with Mr. Potter about this award several times, the most recent being that very morning. Harry had insisted he was in no mood to get a make-believe award from insane inmates, but somehow Albus didn’t think telling the government stooge that would go over well.

“Regrettably, Mr. Potter has other duties he must attend,” Albus started knowing full well some of those duties included taking remedial courses (whatever those were) in order to get into Uni (that he did know what it was).

“He’s not here?!” the stooge nearly had a heart attack. “But… this is an important ceremony! Whatever will we do?!”

Albus and Severus shared that same look again. They had impressed that same message on young Harry earlier in the day, only to get Harry’s curt response of: “Listen, Albus, if you have to do something crazy for your wacky ‘wizarding’ ceremony, then why don’t you give that make-believe medal to Mr. Rock since she was there for the epic final battle.” Harry then rolled his eyes and went back to mixing different coffees together in an effort to learn a new trade while his former headmaster and teach left the coffee house.

Fearing they would break the Secrecy Statute, the two educators left the coffee house and returned to Hogwarts. Now it was time to use Dumbledore’s influence like he never had before, the old Headmaster know.

And so it was with great gusto and pompous windbags giving long speeches that no one would ever remember, that the Order of Merlin, 1st Class was awarded to Harry Potter. And accepting on his behalf was Mr. Rock, that fabulous piece of some kind of mineral that no one knew since they were not engineers nor had ever thought of what was in a rock. There was much clapping and picture taking. In fact, one specific picture of Mr. Rock and the award around her rocky body was taken and turned into a Chocolate Frog card.

This same Chocolate Frog card amazingly enough became the most sought after card in the wizarding world and the rarest one of all within months of its release. It was probably because the Goblins all collected the card and didn’t give a crap about Wizards wanting that card to complete their collections.

They knew the truth about Mr. Rock and her odd favorites over the millennia.

{-49-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2

I know, I know, this reads like it is the end of the story. But fear not! There is still [at least] one chapter left.

An interesting note: a reader recently suggested the return of Mr. Rock was needed. I had this chapter plotted before I posted chapter 47, so Mr. Rock was always going to be pivotal to this chapter. But the anticipation and suggestion (guess?) for Mr. Rock was well done! Great minds think alike.

And thank you Slytherin66 who had the great idea of giving Mr. Rock a Chocolate Frog card for all that she had to put up with.

And thank you to GuidingHand for pointing out my spelling errors. I posted this the other night, near midnight, and was very tired when I finished writing it.


	51. Chapter 50: How Harry Did It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 7

Okay, folks. This is it. The [official] last chapter. Where I’m sure all your burning questions that you didn’t know you had are answered. And if not, you can always send me a message or leave a review. I answer them. Occasionally. Kind of.

New chapter by Steve2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

{-50-}

Albus Dumbledore knew a lot of things. He knew 2+2 was 4, and that Carson City was the capital of Nevada (not that he knew where Nevada was, but that was beside the point). He was an old man with a lot of wisdom. Some of it hard earned, and some of it freely given. He was either feared (by those dark wizards) or revered by everyone in the Wizarding world. Well, almost everyone.

One student had never looked up to him. And never feared him. In fact, that student had pretty much called him nuts the first time he met him. That student, obviously, was Harry Potter. The same Harry Potter that graduated a year ago, took a summer job while looking for his next adventure, and then decided to move into the castle full time while he worked on his lawsuits against the Ministry of Magic and what he called their “shockingly poor education program he was forced to participate in against his will”. Really, they were his words, and not Albus’. After all, Albus had read the court summons himself not less than 5 months ago.

The same Harry Potter that had vanquished a Dark Lord multiple times, killed a Basilisk, subjected the entire dementor populace to endless recordings of Polka music at Azkaban (Harry thought it might reduce the rage the inmates incarcerated there were feeling at the rotten stench – and not just annoy the dementors, which, apparently, actually enjoyed the music), didn’t bother to win the Tri-Wizard Tournament yet was still given accolades after it finished (if only by the press, which, Dumbledore knew, was a ploy to sell papers), managed to get his godfather freed (Albus wasn’t sure how he did it – or why poor Peter had to die so gruesomely, but he was sure Harry was involved somehow), had been instrumental in locating all the horcrux’s and even destroying them before facing the same Dark Lord again and vanquishing him permanently. And he did this all without believing in magic.

That was something that Albus Dumbledore, Supreme titles and all just did not understand. How did young Harry succeed where all others would have failed? All others, Albus knew, himself included in that thought.

=Knock – knock!=

That was odd, Albus thought. How did he not know someone was at the door? He always knew. To statue always let him know. … Unless… “Come in, Miss Lovegood.”

The door opened and one Luna Lovegood entered: the same Luna Lovegood that was currently dating the former student, Harry Potter. In fact, it was the same Luna Lovegood that had just graduated Hogwarts earlier that day.

“Hello, Headmaster. May I have a seat?”

“Of course, Miss Lovegood. Lemon Drop?”

“Why certainly, Headmaster,” she replied, taking a handful, popping one in her mouth, and putting the rest in a small Ziploc baggie. She looked at the baggie for a moment, saw the Headmaster’s stare, and replied, “Oh, sorry.” She smiled at the bemused Headmaster and then took the dish of candy, opened the Ziploc baggie and tipped the remaining candy in. “There, that’s better,” she said as she put the empty dish back on the desk.

“I guess I can always get more,” the ancient Headmaster started, still looking at the empty dish.

“That’s the spirit!” Luna agreed with a beaming smile.

“Ah, yes, thank you, Miss Lovegood,” Dumbledore offered. “I must say, not many students ever come to my office voluntarily.”

“This is true. It is probably because of the Headmaster Curse of 1509.”

“I must have missed that one in History class. Would you care to elaborate?”

“Certainly, Headmaster. In 1509, Headmaster Schnizzel had several breeds of dogs that he kept around the castle. They would often be seen by the students running around and wanting to be petted, like normal dogs would. However, during certain periods of the year, they would go into what is known as rutting season which is where a male dog would…”

“Yes, thank you, Miss Lovegood, but I know what rutting season is.”

“Oh. That certainly takes the wind out of that kite. Anyway, after complaints by many students, staff, and centaurs, the Headmaster had to restrict those dogs to his office during rutting season which is why none of the students ever wanted to come here.”

“Ah, I understand. That is a nice bit of history. But where does the curse come in?”

“Elves.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s an elf curse.”

“But why…”

“Headmaster Schnizzel enjoyed playing pranks on the elves, dropping doggie droppings on their heads when they popped into the office to clean up after the dogs each day.”

Albus turned and looked to the wall behind his desk. “Jerome, is this true?” he inquired of one smaller portrait.

“Ya, Albus,” the portrait replied honestly as it was required to by the wards of the office. “But dose little stinkers had it komink!”

“What… never mind. I don’t want to know.”

Albus turned back around and put his attention to the young just-graduated student. “Thank you for that bit of history, Miss Lovegood. So how can I help you?”

“Oh, I thought you might enjoy talking about things,” she smiled at him.

“Things?”

“Yes.”

“Any ‘things’ in particular? The Battle of Hogwarts has been over for the past year and it has been quieter and happier here as a result.”

“Indeed it has, Headmaster. Due mostly to the actions of Harry Potter, Luna’s boyfriend.”

“You talk about yourself in the third person?”

“You don’t?”

“I hadn’t thought of doing it, no.”

“Pity. It is most enjoyable. You should try it sometime.”

“I may have to do that in the time remaining to me.”

“Ah, time. Yes, I guess it creeps up on all of us. Harry too, even though he doesn’t know it.”

“You know something about Harry that he doesn’t?”

“Oh, Headmaster, I know everything about Harry. For instance, did you know that Harry subscribes to the Harry Not-Rule rule of magic in which if Harry doesn’t know about a magic rule, he can automatically bypass it as if it doesn’t exist?”

“What?” Albus quirked an eyebrow at the young lass in front of him.

“Oh yes. I’ll give you an example. Rule: The Killing Curse kills people. You and I know that. Luna’s Harry did not know this rule when he was hit with the killing curse so he did not die. He did not believe in magic, so was unaffected by anything directed towards him. If he did use magic, it was unintentional and he did not notice it.

“Following that rule: Others believe in magic and it works for them. Others believe in magic and they attempted to use it against Luna’s Harry. It either didn’t work at all, or it worked very differently than what was expected.

“Continuing along that line, Luna’s Harry grew up not believing in magic. Yet, he had to come to a magical school where he had many interesting things happen, none of them magical in nature or so he thinks. Yet magic is out there. And like Mr. Rock, she has her favorites. And Luna’s Harry Potter is magic’s current favorite. In fact, the spirit of magic likes Harry quite a bit, even though Harry vehemently denies believing in magic. The spirit finds that amusing. Our children will also find it funny.”

Albus Dumbledore smiled at the idea of Harry and Miss Lovegood having children. “Harry deserves happiness after all he’s been through.”

“Oh, Luna’s Harry has had happiness for some time now. Not that I’m going to enter a wet t-shirt contest or anything.”

“Ah, that’s good I guess,” the Headmaster began.

“Well, not again that is,” Luna remembered a thought.

“Uh, okay?”

“Even if it is only a private show just for him.”

Albus needed to move this conversation to something other than… Luna’s wet t-shirt. “You know, I always wonder what Harry’s patronus would have been had be believed in magic.”

“Oh, that is easy, Headmaster. I do think it would have been a child wearing a bed sheet as a ghost costume with a lot of holes in it while carrying a bag with a rock in it.”

“Why a rock?”

“Why, to crush the bad Halloween treats with, of course. Ah, I must be running. I had a wonderful time at school, Headmaster. We will have to do this again sometime.”

{-50-}

Epilogue

19 years later….

The Hogwarts Express was steaming on the tracks, waiting for the students to get a move on and board the train.

Lots of students were standing on the platform, chatting with families, with other students, and with train staff. The train’s engineer looked at his watch, then over to the side where he gave a nod. He then pointed at his watch.

The individual next to the train understood that nod. He’d been getting it for years.

“Right! Everyone, board the bloody train!” yelled one older Harry Potter.

Older students who had seen this last year or years before knew what was coming and got out of his way. They ran to board the train.

One adult approached Harry. “Hullo, Harry.”

“Hey, Hermione. Hugo going to Hogwarts?”

“It’s time for him. When are you going to send your kids to Hogwarts, Harry?” she inquired as she put Hugo on the train.

“What? Why would I do that? They’re sane. They can go to Eaton. Hey, have you seen Ginny lately? I wanted to show her my new cattle prod.”

{-50-}

Magic is a funny thing. It does have favorites. It also has those that it finds ways to push to be friends with its favorites. In one of those offshoots, some-where, some-when, and more importantly, some-how, two people watched Harry bum-rush the older and newer students onto the Hogwarts Express. They watched Harry’s activities via a magical mirror with audio (which muggles would later call an HDTV on steroids).

“I cannot believe you did that!” the younger of the two, a pretty woman, said of the old man.

“Heh, heh! Never underestimate the power of a professor!”

“What power?! You’re a little troll!”

“Ha! Henchgirl, you have much to learn of the ‘professor’ power.”

“You walked up to the Dursley home wearing a white lab coat, rang the doorbell, and basically conned them into letting young 8-year old Harry watch TV as much as he wanted,” Henchgirl pointed out.

The old man nodded. “True. Everything you said is true. But it was the ‘professor’ power that I carry with me that allowed me to do that. Otherwise, if you had done it, they wouldn’t have believed you and young Harry would not have had that life.”

Henchgirl looked at the Professor critically. “It’s the coat, isn’t it?”

“Of course not!”

“Yes it is. It’s always a white lab coat-wearing individual that can pull off a con like that.”

“No it’s not!”

“Yes it is!”

“What’s going on in there?” an ominous, non-descript voice asked carefully as the voice’s owner walked into their scrying room. He was tall. You couldn’t get a bead on his face. He could be anyone. And he was dressed head to toe in black.

“Nothing, Mr. Black,” Henchgirl said quickly.

“Nothing? Then why are those pink slippers hooked up to that mirror?”

The Professor and Henchgirl looked at each other for a moment.

“Um, what slippers?” Henchgirl moved in front of them.

“The slippers you are standing in front of,” Mr. Black pointed behind her.

“There are no slippers here. They are not the ones you are looking for…” Henchgirl started.

“Henchgirl…” Mr. Black started.

Then Mr. Black, face obscured, gave her the look.

“My friend,” the Professor started. “It’s not what it appears to be,” and he smiled the ‘it’s an honest mistake anyone could have made… a few dozen… a few hundred times’ smile.

“Uh-huh,” Mr. Black folded his arms across his chest. “Spill.”

“Well, we were thinking about other realities one day…” the Professor began.

{-50-}

Read and Review, please! Smiles!

Steve2

Did anyone catch the references to any of the cartoons? Or catch the references to all the other shows and comedy acts from any of the earlier chapters? Let me know!

And that is it for Harry’s tale, but not necessarily the end of this story. I am thinking of a couple additional chapters on this story – for other characters. Possibly… showing the 7th year Hermione in her Halloween getup, and another showing how Dobby got inspired to help out Harry Potter sir. Any suggestions you all want to throw at me, I would gladly entertain.

As for the ending, I know it was out of left field. So a little explanation.  
Mr. Black is the title character in “Make a Wish”. He is Harry Potter and the Professor and Henchgirl are from that story. There have been multiple shorts and longer stories with Mr. Black in them. I am planning on tying this and a few more stories together with Mr. Black. The pink bunny slippers are from another story I wrote.

I am now working on 2 other stories I have gotten permission to revise. I will start posting them when I have enough content ready.

One story is a parody of Star Wars meeting a Harry Potter that needs to amuse himself.

The other story is a remake of a Harry Potter meets a Walking Dead world. This is more of a serious story, but I always throw humor in.

Which one sounds interesting to you? Let me know.

And finally, thank you all for reading and reviewing. Especially Slytherin66 who has reviewed every chapter. And GuidingHand for correcting my mistakes.


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